


The Drawing Room

by VS_Brewster



Series: Lives at War [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Bondage, F/M, Humiliation, Infidelity, Lemon, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-13 15:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1232329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VS_Brewster/pseuds/VS_Brewster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A talented young potions apprentice has been brought to Voldemort's attention. Somehow, this is Lucius's problem. The boy is arrogant, shabby and entirely unsuitable. How will Lucius mould him into an asset?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Modest Beginnings

Lucius Malfoy was trying to work. Well, not work exactly. He didn't need to work. He was, to all intents and purposes, a gentleman of leisure. He was trying, then, to write some correspondance. More to the point, he was attempting to ignore the scruffy, skinny youth standing on the rug and making a mess of his drawing room with his mere presence.

The boy was Narcissa's friend. Was it normal, when entering into a marriage, to be expected to take responsibility for the waifs and strays of one's spouse? She had sold him well, but then she had been naked at the time. Perhaps it should have concerned him that she talked about another man while naked in his bed. Judging by the lanky, sallow boy and his low standard of personal hygiene, he had no cause for concern. 

A year ahead of Narcissa at Hogwarts, and a prodigy by all accounts. The boy had tutored her in Potions, not just teaching her the fundamentals she needed for the classroom but how to improve upon and simplify processes, ensuring she would test well in a practical. Not that it ever came to that. Narcissa dropped out long before her NEWTs. She didn't need them. She had him. This potions boy possessed the sort of mind that seeks to improve and develop. He had no interest in regurgitating the textbook facts in a way that earns house points but means very little in the real world. On top of this, he had the kind of fast wand work that made him a formidable duellist. His transfiguration was below parr, but that didn't really matter. There were only so many practical uses for turning a raven into a writing desk.

Sweet Narcissa had told him of the boy before bringing him to the Dark Lord's attention, though it had been a close thing. More of a courtesy than anything else. He supposed it was only natural the boy should then be placed under his proverbial wing, Narcissa bowing to his higher status and greater experience.

"Talent and invention, Lucius," his Lord had murmured from his throne in the unplottable room where he held court with his favourites. He was a handsome man, but had dark dead eyes. When he smiled it was never a good thing. "Useful skills that you yourself do not possess. Teach him obedience. Find him a place. You will make a fine team."

There was no arguing with that. Or with anything the Dark Lord said.

And so, fresh from Hogwarts, there he stood. A man with no fixed abode who needed a bloody good wash and was to be Lucius's responsibility.

"I hear you're clever," Lucius said without looking up. He tried to make it sound like an insult.

"Yes," Snape said bluntly. A flick of his grey eyes and Lucius saw the boy cross his arms over his chest. So thin and decked out in such a lot of black wool. He must be used to being cold. One corner of the boy's thin lips curled into a sneer he had no right to be making.

"Then you should have no trouble understanding the advice I am bout to impart. 'Clever' means fuck all. You have been what's known as a big fish in a small pond. You get points for doing well in class and there are those who don't like you because you find what you do easy. Everyone knows your name and you've made the mistake of thinking that makes you someone. You are not in the pond any longer. The ocean is vast and dark and full of creatures with very large, very sharp teeth. Being 'clever' only makes you stand out and therefore more likely to lose a limb. Luckily for you, I know these waters. And I have sharp teeth of my own." Lucius smiled his most charming smile, showing just how brilliantly white his teeth were. 

The boy looked less certain. Good. The sooner that cockiness was knocked out of him, the safer they all would be. His hands had dropped to his sides, the sneer curdling on his face. "The Dark Lord has shown an interest in me," he said.

"The Dark Lord," Lucius corrected, "has a vague inkling of who you are and how you might be useful. That is to say, you are a speck on his metaphorical radar." For the first time, Lucius turned in his chair to face the whelp, crossing his legs and swiping a palm over a non-existent crease in his trousers. He wore a linen and silk blend, finely woven, elf tailored to fit and flatter. As were all his clothes. Snape wore poorly transfigured school robes, now he looked at them properly. Thick and black and unbecoming. 

"And what did you give him in exchange for his cleverness, little viper?" He had asked Narcissa, his lips kissing the smooth silk of her hair. She had widened her eyes in a perverse and unlikely display of innocence. Lucius had tangled his fingers in those same delicate strands and pulled gently, a threat of more dancing in his eyes. "Did you fuck him, Narcissa?"

"A hand job," she breathed, smiling at her husband's jealousy. "He tried to grope me once. I slapped him." Narcissa leant in, her hair slipping through his fingers once more. He felt her breath against his lips as she whispered, "And he liked it. That's how the handjob started."

A remarkably useful piece of information.

"I have been asked," Lucius told the boy, "to assess if you're of any actual use. If you are, I will find you a place where your skills can be developed. You can learn from the masters. I know people who will pay well for your skills, and we can do something about the way you look. Think of me as your gate keeper, Snape. Make me happy and you're that step closer to the Dark Lord."

Anger flashed in the boy's black eyes. Anger and hunger and something else. 

The boy raised his chin in a poor effort at defiance. "I don't have anywhere to live."

Lucius smirked. There were no reflective surfaces nearby, but he knew it was an attractive look on his pleasantly symmetrical face. "We have a library which is largely unused. In it is a couch. You would be largely undisturbed. Though one of my house elves might try to clean you." Lucius picked up the letter he had been writing. "This is a recommendation to a good friend of mine. He is wealthy and connected ... A bit mad. Among his many ventures, he supplies cleaning agents to Borgin and Burkes."

"'Cleaning agents'?" Snape sneered again. Lucius would have liked very much to slap the sneer from his face; to pull his head back by that greasy hair; to strip every arrogant mannerism and sound from the dirty little fuck that had somehow insinuated his way to the Dark Lord's attention by doing precisely fuck all. For the time being he contented himself with slamming the flat of his palm on the table top. To his credit, the whelp didn't jump. He shut his mouth abruptly, though, and looked very much like he would like to take a step backwards.

"You have another job to go to, I assume? A string of offers?" He let the silence carry longer than was needed for the desired effect. "I didn't think so. My friend will pay you, probably more than you're worth, and he won't watch you very closely. I'm told you like experimenting. Improving. Make something that makes Borgin notice you and you have another friendly monster at your side. Do you begin to see how this works?"

The stubborn fuck said nothing but nodded once.

Lucius turned back to his desk, waving a dismissive hand at Snape. "Stubby will show you to the library. Read what you will. Don't get grease on my books, they're very valuable." He waited for the boy to reach the door, watching from the periphery of his vision. "Oh, and Snape? Don't wear rehashed school robes into my drawing room again. They're an affront to my senses."

When the boy left without another word, Lucius smirked. If he liked being slapped he had come to the right place. For Lucius Malfoy liked nothing better than beating some humility into his inferiors.

*

In the following three days, Lucius saw blessedly little of his house guest. He knew he was still there, if only because Narcissa was occasionally found in the library - possibly for the first time since she had moved into the manor six months prior. It wasn't a place he himself tended to frequent. Old books of musty dangerous magic were not the tools Lucius chose to get ahead. There was more to be gained from status, wealth and a charming manner, none of which could be acquired from a book. The house guest didn't appear to eat, did not present himself at meal times nor after dinner when Lucius and Narcissa were more than happy to be alone. There was that one evening, when Narcissa had been laid across his lap, Lucius's hand inside her robes as he whispered filth in her ear. They had both heard the door creak, but when they looked up there was no one there. Doubtless the youth's presence would not stop their activities on the chaise before they moved upstairs - it was their house, after all - but it was a relief not to have to share Narcissa's attention with anyone else. She could be such an attentive hostess sometimes.

Then a reply came from LeStrange and it seemed his house guest would be no more. Lucius sent Stubby to bring Master Snape back to the study. The boy didn't keep him waiting long. Lucius was seated before the fire, legs crossed at the ankle, enjoying a dark earthy glass of elf made wine. He was staring at the flames, considering his wife's perfectly pearlescent skin and how it flushed and mottled when he brought her to orgasm. She had been to Madame Burlesque's Parlour that day and spent an exorbitant quantity of his money. Doubtless this evening held a treat, if he could just get Snape out of the way.

His head fuzzy and his cock half hard, Lucius was in a glittering mood when Snape entered. He felt inclined to be both jovial and vicious with very little leeway between the two.

The boy presented himself, still grubby, still in those hideous school robes.

"You asked for me," he said in an accusing voice that said he did not consider himself at Lucius's beck and call.

"What was the last thing I said when I saw you here last?" Lucius asked.

Two spots of colour appeared high on the sharp sallow cheek bones. "You said not to wear old school robes in your drawing room."

"Take them off," Lucius ordered quietly. He drank and watched fragments of Snape through the cut glass of the goblet. The whelp hesitated before the robes were removed. Snape seemed to have temporarily forgotten he was a wizard, fumbling with buttons one at a time. Had there been something about Snape being a half-blood? No true wizard would stand awkwardly slipping button from hole when he could simply wave his wand and have the garment neatly folded at his feet.

Eventually the robe was shrugged from his shoulders and slipped to the floor. A shirt beneath with frayed cuffs, and plain black trousers that hugged his slender hips and thighs. It was the fashion with some, he supposed, or had been a few years ago. "More school uniform?" Lucius asked, a dangerous quality to his voice. But then, Snape had better get used to that. Lucius was a pussy cat compared to some of the others, let alone the Dark Lord.

Snape swallowed. Lucius could see the distinct bob of his prominent Adam's apple. A pale throat darkened by dark stubble, shaved no doubt with a razor and not a charm. There would be a lot of cleaning up to be done if Snape were to be put before the Dark Lord. Then nodded tersely, the greasy curtain of his hair falling forward, only partially masking the shame in his face.

"Off," Lucius said, enunciating the single syllable clearly, brooking no argument.

"You can't be-"

"This room has entertained some of the very greatest and most powerful wizards that have ever lived. The Dark Lord himself has sat where I am sitting. I will not have you insult my heritage by dressing like a schoolboy gone to seed when you stand in the oldest part of my house. Eight hundred years this room has been here, just as it is, and before that the stones with which it was built made up the chateau of the Malfoi family in Versailles. No adult wizard has ever stood in a boy's clothes upon this threshold. I made an exception to you once. You may take off those clothes and hear what I have to offer, or you may leave my home and fend for yourself. Whichever you choose, I advise you do it quickly."

Through this speech Snape's hands fisted into long fingered little balls, the knuckles turning white. His jaw was set, his eyes black and dangerous. Lucius almost longed for him to draw his wand, to be given the excuse to crucify the little upstart. But in the blink of an eye the shirt was ripped open - no faffing with buttons - and a thin, pale torso revealed. He dropped his trousers, peeling them down his legs, and stepped out of them. He wore pants that might once have been white, now grey from over washing, the elastic showing through on the waistband. It was tempting, so tempting, to demand their removal as well. But as Snape stood upright his hands fell back to his sides, and Lucius saw the tell tale bulge at Snape's crotch. This was not endowment but arousal. 

He likes to be humiliated as well as slapped. And what else does young Snape like, Lucius wondered.

A certain pride or defiance shone in the young man's face. Did he imagine Lucius would be flustered or embarrassed by his half mast cock?

"LeStrange has accepted my proposal. You will report to him in the morning. He will arrange accommodation for you."

"I won't stay in the library?" Snape asked.

"I think 'thank you' are the words you're looking for."

"But you said you would seal my way to the Dark Lord."

Lucius's laughter sounded harsh even to his own ears. He put the empty glass down on the table beside him and lounged back in his chair. "I hardly think those were my exact words. Would you like to try again."

The boy closed his eyes, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. There would be a permanent line there if he wasn't careful. Well fuck me, Lucius thought, if he's not actually trying. 

"You said I could learn from your library. You said you were my gatekeeper. You said..." He stammered for the first time since the impudent little prick had entered his home. Those black eyes opened and flicked over Lucius, head to toe in a split second. Was it the wine affecting his vision, or did the boy's cock twitch beneath the grotty cotton? "You said to please you."

"I said to make me happy," Lucius said, grateful he was narcissistic enough that he never forgot any of his own words. "Don't flatter yourself."

Snape spread his hands, palms facing Lucius. Even from the distance of a good seven feet he could see the criss cross of pale burn scars across those palms. He imagined callouses, the way rough skin might catch and graze. It had been a while since he'd fucked anyone who actually worked, did anything with their hands other than spell casting. Not so much the sight of the boy's body, but his obvious arousal at the humiliation had stirred a matching interest within Lucius's cock. The unfolding possibilities hardened that interest and he did nothing to hide it.

"You can't live in my library. The very notion is ridiculous. And Malfoys do not take tenants."

"What about protégés?" Snape asked smoothly, his hands shifting behind his back, his pelvis rocking forwards obscenely.

"Let me put this bluntly. You have nothing to offer me. At least, nothing I want." Lucius smiled the same pretty smile he might use were he paying an attractive woman a compliment.

"I want to keep using your library."

Lucius rolled his eyes. This was becoming tedious. 

"What you want is as plain as the protuberant nose on your face. You want to suck my cock and be called a good boy for doing so."

At last, the cocky fuck seemed to be lost for words. All the blood, it seemed, had rushed to the lower brain which strained against threadbare cotton. Lucius stood, drawing his wand. The beady black eyes flashed as Snape realised he had left his wand in his robes. A mistake he would be wise never to repeat, given the company he aspired to keep. An idle flick and the boy dropped to his knees. Lucius considered having him press his face to the unyielding marble floor, but he enjoyed watching the boy's cock twitch and strain at each humiliation.

The older man stopped in front of Snape, close enough that the potions boy could try and touch him if he dared. It wouldn't be a wise move.

"No witty retort? No denial?"

At last those eyes lowered, and Lucius was tempted to croon, 'good boy' just to see what he'd do.

"I just want to use the library. For fucks sake, do you want me to beg?"

One hand snaked out and gripped a handful of that disgusting hair, wrenching his head back. Even close up his eyes were so dark it was impossible to tell if his pupils were dilated or not. A good job, then, that his cock was much easier to read. "You think this is a game. You think you can fag for me and you'll get whatever you want. But you don't listen. It doesn't work that way any more. Tomorrow you go to LeStrange and you can be his problem for a while."

He released the boy's head. It dropped forward. Lucius cast a quick scourgify on his hand to lift the layer of muck. Under his breath Lucius muttered, "I suggest you not try this bullshit with him. He and the lovely Bellatrix take things a bit seriously."

Lucius strode to the door, leaving Snape slumped almost naked on the cold floor. At the door he paused. "One more thing, Snape. If my house elves report having had to clean up ejaculate from this room or my library ... I will be displeased."

Narcissa barely got a chance to show off her purchases that evening. Her husband seemed to have no interest in her at all, except to fuck her as hard as he could. Narcissa wasn't about to complain, though she thought it was curious that Lucius egged her on to scream, scream louder, scream his name. Snape was only a floor below them and sound had a tendency to echo in the manor.

*

A mere month later and the little shit was in Lucius's drawing room once more. He had sent Narcissa away in his fury. She was at Grimauld Place with her aunt. It might have been a tearful parting, but she knew his ire was not directed at her, and further knew better than to be in his way when he was so angry. 

He had told Stubby to show him into the drawing room. Then he let the prick stew. He had to know what was coming. Christ, he was probably banking on it. Arrogant little fuck. Lucius gripped his wand, knowing were it a non magical item it would easily splinter in his fist. The Dark Lord was bemused, which was marginally better than irate. It at least gave room for leverage. But it was too soon, much too soon, to have those all seeing eyes cast in this prat's direction. Snape might think he was good but this fiasco showed he was nothing short of clueless.

Borgin was furious. And that was a bridge Lucius would have to mend personally. The man might be a con artist and a thief behind the brittle facade of his shopfront, but the Death Eaters needed him on side. He dreaded to think of the pound of flesh he would have to pay out, but at least gold was a commodity the dealer valued.

Lucius wrenched open the door and stormed in.

"Strip!" He ordered, though he could see Snape was ready to launch into conversation.

The command didn't stall him long. "But I'm not in-"

"Do I look like I give a fuck?" Lucius demanded, rounding on the other man. They were of a height -- if anything Snape was taller -- but he quailed under the intense grey gaze. His fingers automatically went to his throat, unknotting the black tie and working at the shirt buttons. He was smartly turned out, Lucius would admit. Cheap but smart. It didn't stop him leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor. "And the underwear," Lucius sneered, seeing that the greying, holy relic of a pair of Y-fronts were still in use.

The older man drew breath as Snape skimmed the pants down his legs, but before he could release the command Snape was on his knees. Despite himself, a fraction of the anger that roiled within him turned to lust. Lucius summoned the decanter and conjured a glass wordlessly, his eyes never leaving the skinny, pale frame kneeling before him.

Somehow, by some miracle, he poured without spilling anything. He didn't dare pick it up yet. The wine glasses were antiques, he had no desire to break one of them. Even if repaired, he would know there was one which was imperfect and it would ruin the whole set.

"Tell me why I'm so angry, Snape," he snarled.

The boy's breathing was slow and measured. Lucius could see each stuck out rib on every inhale. "You think I fucked up," that surprisingly deep, surprisingly sonorous voice intoned without a hint of humility or apology.

In two long strides Lucius was in front of the boy, his hand arcing down to strike him open-palmed across the face in one long fluid motion. Blood rushed to the surface, flushing an almost perfect hand print on the other man's pale skin. "Not good enough. Try again."

"Are you really going to beat me with your bare hand?" Snape sneered, though he kept his eyes lowered.

Lucius felt strands of hair snap between his fingers as he wrenched Snape's head back to look at him. "It is taking more self control than you can imagine not to Crucio you until you defecate on my floor, so I suggest you answer the fucking question."

He swallowed. Licked his lips. The way his eyes darted away suggested it wasn't on purpose, wasn't a come on or something more lascivious, whatever Lucius's traiterous body might feel in reaction. Anger turned so easily, so painfully easily, to lust.

"Mr Borgin is angry because one of my solutions damaged a painting," he said at last. And at last, there was a quiet note, a humble note, a non-verbal recognition that Lucius was in the shit and it was his fault.

Lucius leant in close. He wanted to make very sure the arrogant fuck was listening. "A painting that had been purchased by the Dark Lord." He saw the beetle black eyes widen imperceptibly. "Didn't know that, did you?"

Thin lips worked for a few moments without making a sound. Lucius didn't loosen his grip. His gaze did wander down to that pale throat, mind distracted by equal desires to kiss it and rip it out.

"We're fucked," the boy said eventually.

Lucius laughed and released Snape, none too gently. He stalked back to his chair and slumped in it, finally picking up his glass and drinking deeply. "I'm fucked. I'm bent over with my trousers round my ankles wondering if he'll be good enough to spit on his dick before he shoves it in. You're just and insignificant in the street outside, probably wishing he could be fucked."

The slightly glazed quality to Snape's face suggested he liked the sound of Lucius's position. Teenagers and their fucking hormones.

"Would you care to explain, Master Snape, how this happened?"

Knelt on the white marble, palms on his knees, his head bent reverentially, Lucius could almost imagine he'd done this before.

"Borgin's a prick."

Lucius gritted his teeth and flicked his wand. There was a sound like a whip  
crack, and a nasty, thin welt opened up across the boy's left pectoral. He hissed in response and fell silent. "Try again," Lucius said softly.

"Mr Borgin accused me of over dilluting cleaning solutions so he would have to buy more frequently."

"And did you?" Lucius asked conversationally.

"I did not." He glanced up. Not nervous, but his eyes said that wasn't the whole story. Mentally, Lucius amended Snape's answer: He did not, but LeStrange might have. "He called me unfit for making such produce for a professional market."

"And so?" Lucius prompted when Snape paused to indulge his hurt pride.

"And so I improved the recipe." The arrogant little fuck had the audacity to smirk. This time Lucius aimed the whip crack low on his abdomen, enjoying the full body twitch that resulted. "I told him to dillute it," he said hurriedly.

"Knowing full well that he would not. It would be a very nice lesson if it weren't such a horrendous miscalculation."

"What happened?" Snape asked, sounding more amused than he had any right to be.

Lucius ran a hand over his eyes, massaging them, trying in vain to ease his slamming headache. "Borgin found a very ancient painting of Salazar Slytherin. Of course, the Dark Lord had to have it before Dumbledore could find out and spirit it away to Hogwarts. It had been involved in a house fire. Borgin had restored it, re-framed it, but it was still covered in a layer of soot. He covered it in the solution, as per instructions, and left it over night. In the morning, he found a blank canvas in an ornate frame. The paint was entirely eaten away." He opened one grey eye. The boy had schooled his face, not quite  
achieving remorse but at least managing not to look too pleased with himself. "How did you manage that, by the way? Not destroying the whole thing?"

"The solution contains mercury, a conductor of magic. The potion can be imbued with a certain intelligence. Runes traced during the brewing ensure the solution will clean everything down to the structure. If Borgin had followed my instructions, he might have saved the painting..."

"Might have." Lucius shook his head and whipped Snape again -- his thighs, his chest, and a single slender cut across one sharp cheekbone. His heart wasn't in it. Whipping Snape would not make the painting reappear, would not uncover another artefact of equal value, would not please the Dark Lord.

"Was he angry?" Snape asked, breathing heavily. One of the welts on his chest oozed blood in a slow trickle downwards. His cock was ramrod hard and flushed an angry red.

"The Dark Lord is mercurial himself. At present, he is bemused to see an old crook like Borgin caught with his trousers down by a boy just out of Hogwarts. Give it a day or two, I'm sure the novelty will wear off and he'll start to wish he had his fucking painting." Lucius sighed. He should go to bed. He should sleep and forget this sorry episode for as long as he could.

"If I ... May I make a suggestion?"

Well fuck me, thought Lucius, if the discipline wasn't actually working. It was always nice to reaffirm that the old methods were the best. A bit of humility and the exploitation of a person's need to please, could in fact turn them into a reasonably acceptable human being. He shouldn't have been surprised. Merlin knew, the Dark Lord used this technique to great effect time and again. Not on Lucius, not on so proud a wizard as he. Lucius had been fortunate to know the Dark Lord before he gained the confidence to try this sort of tactic on men like him. But he had stood at the Dark Lord's side and watched others -- Bellatrix LeStrange, for one -- as they snivelled and lowered themselves before him. And look what he had achieved. Bellatrix, so proud and haughty and  
arrogant, would jump in front of the Knight Bus for him.

It gave Lucius a strange thrill to think that Snape might be his creature before he was the Dark Lord's.

"Only if it's a sensible one," Lucius finally mumbled into his wine glass.

"Such an ancient canvas, still imbued with magic. Should not the Dark Lord commission his own portrait to be painted upon it? Should he not supercede the former subject?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow. As ideas went, it was a good one. He wasn't about to tell Snape that. Nor would he tell the Dark Lord where the suggestion came from when he made it.

"Come here," Lucius said. "Ah ah," he waved a finger in the air, as though admonishing a child. "Crawl. You will not stand in my presence. Not here. Not when this is how you behave the moment you're out of my sight."

Snape snarled but did as he was told, and the power of it really was intoxicating. The boy's hatred of the things he would do to please Lucius made it all the sweeter. Perhaps, if he was good, if he was very very good, Lucius really would let Snape suck his cock. He might even call him a good boy while he did it.

"Stop," Lucius murmured when Snape was a suitable distance. Lucius kicked off his shoes and stretched out his long legs, propping his ankles on Snape's naked thighs. "Tell me how you fucked up."

Snape frowned. He had confessed once already, his face said. What more could Lucius possibly want from him?

Lucius flexed his feet, rubbing against a long, thin welt in a way that made Snape hiss. "Shall I start you off? You were arrogant." Snape nodded. Not good enough. "Say it," Lucius ordered.

"I was arrogant." He fell into a sullen silence but Lucius sensed the boy was getting the picture. After some moments his face animated again. "I took a stupid risk. I didn't properly calculate my move. I let myself be controlled by my temper."

The older man slowly nodded his head. He extended his toes, brushing them gently against Snape's straining cock. The boy hissed and moaned, his hips rising of their own volition. "You missed an important one," Lucius said softly, watching with hooded eyes as the young man humped his foot and smirking as his toes danced away, never quite giving him enough pressure. "You didn't tell me what you were up to."

Black eyes shot up. "You told me to get out of your house. You said I wasn't your problem any more."

Lucius hooked his foot over the other man's cock, pressing it down painfully until the hot head touched the cold marble floor. Snape visibly struggled to keep still, but to his credit he only barely flinched. "Demonstrably you are my problem, whether I like it or not. So if you are going to be an arrogant little prick, you will at least warn me about it first. Understood?"

Snape could only nod. His hips were jutting again now, struggling for friction, for sensation.

Lucius removed his foot and stood. His own prick made an impressive bulge in the front of his trousers. He stood in front of Snape, wanting to make absolutely sure he saw it.

"Back to the library for tonight. LeStrange won't take you back."

He walked past the prone, needy figure, longing for the privacy to deal with his own demanding erection. Narcissa's mouth, her cunt, he would gladly bury himself into either.

"You're not going to let me finish?"

"Why would I?" Lucius looked lazily over his shoulder. Snape had turned, like a sun flower following the sun. As he watched, precome oozed down that long, slender shaft.

"I didn't come. Last time."

Lucius smirked. For the first time those two high spots of colour were gracing Snape's cheeks again. In truth, he had completely forgotten to ask the elves if Master Snape had left any stains on the library couch. He reached out a hand to Snape's face, ran his thumb along those thin, cruel lips.

"I know you didn't," he lied, "And nor will you, good boy."

Two words, two little words, and Lucius could see the boy was putty. He moaned softly, eyes falling half shut, his body physically leaning in towards Lucius. Pulling himself away was surprisingly difficult, but Lucius held Snape at arm's length and then left the room. It was cruel, almost too cruel, to leave the boy intoxicated with such a heady cocktail: lust and need and the desire to please; the knowledge that desire was fulfilled; the longing for opportunities to do so  
again. These were feelings to encourage and prolong, a fire to be fed slowly, getting the embers properly hot before offering more fuel to burn.

By the time he reached their bedroom, Lucius had removed his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, and was halfway to removing his trousers. Only then did he remember that Narcissa was away, banished to her aunt's to weather the storm of his temper. How could she have guessed -- why would she -- that his anger would be so easily twisted into a hunger to fuck? Shucking his trousers, Lucius wrapped a hand around his cock. He should have got Snape to do it. It might not have been as good as sinking between Narcissa's soft thighs, but it would be better than this.

Lucius took a hand mirror from the bedside table, lazily stroking his other hand over his prick. "Library," he ordered the mirror, and the glass fogged for a moment before showing him the view afforded from the mirror on the library wall, as though he were looking through a window. Snape was still naked, his clothes in a crumbled heap on the floor. He lay upon the leather couch, gently touching his wand to the wounds on his chest. His other hand trailed lazy, cautious fingers up and down the length of his cock. It was weeping and red, jutting up at each soft touch. How he kept from coming, Lucius couldn't guess.  
The boy's lips moved, mouth hanging open, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. Lucius remember how he moaned at the feel of bare toes on his cock.

"Oh, good boy," Lucius murmured, his own hips rising in jagged, sharp thrusts as he gripped his erection. He came when Snape had to stop touching himself, when he had clearly pushed himself as far as his body cold go. Lucius covered his bare stomach in sticky spunk, and Snape heaved ragged breaths, eyes closed and face tortured. After some moments, as Lucius squeezed his softening cock and milked the last of the viscous fluid from its length, Snape placed the point of his wand against the tip of his cock. He murmured something and  
pulled a blanket over himself. Something to stop him coming in his sleep? Or to stop the blanket touching his over-sensitive skin? There were spells for such things, but Merlin only knew where a whelp like Snape would come across them. They certainly weren't taught in Charms.

The lights dimmed in the library, but Lucius could still see the whites of Snape's eyes. He was staring at the ceiling, not looking likely to fall asleep any time soon. Was there anything worse than trying to sleep when you wanted to come?

*

They fell into a routine. If it was after eleven, if Narcissa was safely upstairs, if Lucius had pulled the arm chair forward from the fire or if he had only poured a glass of wine for himself, Snape would know to strip the moment he walked into the drawing room. His clothes got marginally better and he learned charms to remove and fold his clothing, but the result was the same. He would drop to his knees at the centre of the room. He was always, without exception, already hard.

If he had been good, Lucius beckoned him forwards and rested his bare feet on Snape's thigh, teasing him. If he had caused irritation, he would be left to stew where he was.

"How did you fuck up?" Lucius would ask, by way of greeting.

Snape knew what it meant now. He knew what Lucius considered to be a fuck up. It was almost always arrogance. Arrogance, temper, a shitty attitude. And always coming back to how that reflected poorly on Lucius. They never used the word 'Master', either Snape or Lucius, but both understood that this was precisely their relationship.

After some weeks, the Dark Lord pleased at the idea of his portrait over-writing that of Salazar Slytherin, a new place was found for Snape. A higher place, with one of the finest Potions Masters in Germany. Snape would study under the illustrious Ludwig Esser, Potions Master and research authority at the Munich Institute of Medicine and Potioneering. He would still come to stay, on occasion. He would still sleep in the library, never asking for or offered a real bed. When he couldn't be spared overnight, he would floo to visit for a couple of hours. Lucius didn't know what he told the master -- the master that, obviously, wasn't his real master. Perhaps he imagined they were fucking. But Lucius was still very cautious on that note. And in all honesty,  
he thought that if he allowed Snape to come it might actually break him.

"I've made you a gift," Lucius murmured one evening, when he was pleased with Snape and was inclined to be generous. The boy had earned him good favour with a glowing report from Germany and some monumental potion he was concocting. Though Lucius couldn't justifiably gain any credit from the achievement, the Dark Lord always praised the source and the Mafloys were granted a fine boon for bringing Snape to his Lord's notice. In fact, Lucius had been sitting on the gift for weeks, waiting for his protege to earn it.

From his pocket, he took a slender silver serpent, limp and coiled like a bracelet. "Stand," he said. Snape did so without hesitation. Lucius held the snake's head to the base of Snape's cock and it lept to life, slipping around the base of Snape's shaft and squeezing, visibly biting into the skin. Snape hissed, tears springing to his eyes. "You can stroke all you want, he won't let you come. And I want you feeling how rough the blanket is against your prick. When it hurts, you can think of the reasons you aren't allowed to come. When it feels good, you can think of how you'll please me enough to let you come. But no more spells before you go to bed. "

The boy's frown line was back. Lucius offered no explanation of how he knew, but was privately pleased to have taken him by surprise.

"Stroke," Lucius ordered.

One of those calloused, long-fingered hands wrapped around his cock. He was firm with himself, already trusting the snake to do its job. Within a minute he was dripping onto the floor, but no closer to coming.

"Good boy," Lucius murmured. Snape moaned, his hand slowing, fingers trailing gently. "Did I say slow down?"

Hate sparked in Snape's eyes. Hate and adoration. He stroked harder, and Lucius leaned back in his chair, his hand covering his own bulge and massaging slowly. It was the first time he'd acknowledged his own enjoyment of their little game, and Snape's eyes were fixated on him.

"Should I wear it all the time?" He asked, voice rough and needy and perfect.

"When you come to see me, and for twenty-four hours afterwards. The snake will release itself. I suggest you be somewhere private when your time is up." Lazy grey eyes slid over Snape's leaking cock. "You've dripped on my floor," Lucius drawled. He looked up into Snape's eyes, hungry to see that spark of hatred again. "Lick it up."

Was it to Snape's credit, or to Lucius's own, that he only hesitated for a split second? Either way, he was quickly on his hands and knees, tongue delicately licking the sticky stains on the polished marble. Lucius leaned forward and raked his fingernails across Snape's shoulders. He was rewarded with a groan of such longing Lucius nearly came, there and then. "So good," he crooned instead, scratching the pale skin, marking what was his, "Such a good boy."

*

In the end, Lucius was glad he waited before letting Snape suck him off. There was a special occasion that needed marking on Snape's memory as being explicitly his, and it was a perfect strengthening of his bond.

The Dark Lord finally summoned him, the gawky, arrogant half-blood who was quite good at Potions. Lucius knew how much it meant to him. When he was desparate to come, to please, to serve, Snape got quite talkative. He was so anxious to be recognised, at last, to be needed and praised. When he stood at the Dark Lord's right hand and watched Snape apparate to the Manor, he was impressed he didn't immediately strip and drop to his knees. He could tell the boy wanted to. But it was the wrong man sitting in Lucius's arm chair, and Narcissa stood beside her husband. Snape caught Lucius's eye. The older man gave an imperceptible nod and mouthed, "Good boy," causing his cheeks to flush. Had Snape worn the serpent? Was he hard, as he always was when they were alone together? Or had nerves over-taken him on this occasion?

Instead Snape swept a deep bow and stayed lowered. "It is an honour to meet you, my Lord."

He might be your lord, Lucius thought with a rare flare of unnecessary jealousy, but we both know who's your Master.

The Dark Lord was pleased: pleased with Snape, with his manners, with his progress. Lucius could take credit for at least two of those points, probably all three -- for would Snape still improve so remarkably without his confessor? Would he still puzzle out the solution if he was not asked, "How did you fuck up?" and given the opportunity to talk out the problem?

After half an hour, Lucius and Narcissa were instructed to roll up their sleeves. Of course, Snape had never seen the dark mark. He had never so much and unbuttoned his cuffs in front of the boy, and Narcissa tended to mask it with a glamour when not directly in the Dark Lord's presence. Black eyes grazed hungrily over pale naked flesh, over the tattoo that bound him to the Dark Lord.

"These marks allow me to summon my faithful, Severus Snape. Would you like to become one of my faithful, Severus Snape?"

If only you knew, Lucius thought, just how faithful this little slut could be.

"I would be honoured, my Lord," Snape said softly.

"I will see to it that a date is set."

He didn't stay much longer. He never did. He liked to be near his snake, his home -- wherever that was -- and his treasures. They were left to celebrate, the three of them. Narcissa was charming and flirtatious. She sat between the two men, her legs across Snape's lap, her torso across Lucius's. She wriggled against Lucius's erection and desire glinted in her eyes -- though she shot Snape the same looks and Lucius knew she would wriggle against Snape as well if Lucius were not there to keep her leash tight. How could she know that it was power that made Snape so hard? Power and his proximity to it, his lust for  
submitting to its will. Unless Narcissa was willing to slap his face and tell him 'no', Snape would sooner rut against a table leg for Lucius's amusement than slide between her willing thighs.

Lucius looked Snape in the eye as he ran a hand down Narcissa's front, ending with his palm resting over the apex of her thighs. She squirmed pleasingly. Snape looked like he'd like to dump Narcissa on the floor and take her place. He applied a gentle pressure, rocking his hand back and fore. Narcissa laughed, breathless. "Lu," she whispered against his neck, teeth nipping at his skin. "We have company."

He turned and looked her in the eye. "Perhaps you should go warm the bed. I'll be up in a minute."

She pouted so prettily but did as she was told. No sooner did the door close behind her than Snape was out of his seat, tugging off clothes, wrestling with shoes laces and buttons. Lucius smirked and watched him, waiting until he was naked and kneeling before drawling, "Who told you to get undressed?"

His jaw clenched. Lucius could almost hear his teeth grinding. "I did well for you tonight."

"You were obsequious. It was humiliating."

Snape bared his teeth. "That's what he likes. It's what you like."

"Don't presume to know what I like," Lucius said softly, stopping the other man short. "I was going to give you a treat, but if you're going to throw a tantrum..."

Snape pouted. He shifted his legs apart, just an inch or so. Lucius caught the glint of the silver serpent, its tongue flickering out. So he had worn it.

"Come here," Lucius said. He didn't need to stipulate that Snape crawl. He was on all fours almost before the words were completely out of his mouth. He stopped a little closer than normal. Perhaps something in Lucius's body language said that tonight would be different, special.

He unfastened his belt first, the heavy buckle clinking. Then the buttons of his fly. A raising of his hips, a straightening of his body to slide his hand down the front, and Lucius's cock was pulled free.

The boy was entranced, greedy eyes taking in the length of him without deviating or blinking. Lucius grew harder under that gaze. It had been a wrench for him, too, to deny himself. He wondered if Snape knew that. He hoped not. He hoped Snape thought he didn't give a fuck.

"Would you like to kiss my cock, Snape?" Lucius asked, amusement in his voice and curling his lips, keeping the need and lust and desparation at bay.

Snape nodded mutely.

"Answer," Lucius said, the steel back in his voice.

"Yes," Snape said, his voice lost. Raw and needy.

"Ask me nicely."

"Please," he said immediately. Then he swallowed. "Please may I suck your cock?"

Lucius thought to their first meeting like this, the first time he had told Snape to strip and magically forced him to kneel. "What you want is to suck my cock and be called a good boy for doing so." Never were truer words spoken. Snape had been loyal and patient. The implied promise had been made months ago, the promise that Lucius knew what he needed and would one day allow him to do it.

"You may kiss it," Lucius whispered, reaching out a hand to welcome Snape's head to his lap.

The kiss was chaste, reverential. His lips were dry and chafed slightly against the head. One kiss was brushed against the slit, then another fractionally lower. With the third kiss, Snape's black eyes looked up at him, silently begging.

"Now you may lick," Lucius said.

He struggled to stay still. Snape's tongue fluttered like a serpent's, teasing and tickling, brushing a promise of hot wet fulfilment if only Lucius would allow him a little more. The older man twined his hand into Snape's hair, taking a painful grip and holding him steady. Wide eyes looked up at him and Snape looked suddenly so young. "Do it properly or don't do it at all," Lucius  
growled.

Broad, flattened tongue slid up the length of his cock, licking him from root to tip. "Better," Lucius moaned, not ready to give him a 'good' just yet. "Stroke your cock for me," he said.

Lucius couldn't see from this angle, and that would simply never do. There was a mirror on the wall. Lucius took up his wand and pointed it at the glass, hovering it and turning it. It floated a foot from the ground an arm's reach away from them, and showed Lucius in perfect profile how Severus Snape looked fisting his cock while running his tongue over Lucius' cock.

"You want to suck me, don't you?" Lucius asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight in the mirror.

"Yes. Fuck. Please," he stuttered in between licks.

"Good boy," Lucius purred, earning a moan that he felt reverberate through his body. "Open up."

With a woman -- in fact, with anyone else -- Lucius might have been embarrassed that he didn't last longer. But Snape took it as just more praise, tangible proof that he had pleased. Lucius wrenched hair from scalp as he came, and couldn't tell who moaned loudest as he pumped rope after rope of hot spunk into Snape's mouth. "So good," Lucius murmured, stroking Snape's hair as he licked Lucius's softening cock. "Such a good boy."

Snape's head rolled on his thigh, looking up at him with those wide young eyes. "Can I come?" he asked -- the only time he ever asked.

"No," Lucius said softly. And while Snape looked like he might crumble with need, he also looked relieved. Neither of them wanted this to be sex, wanted to have a relationship or an affair. Lucius wanted Snape to benefit his position, and Snape wanted someone to keep a leash on him. The hard ons were incidental, a build up of tension which would sometimes be released but more often not. "But," Lucius added, smiling, "If you stand, I'll give you something to think about when you're released."

The boy was spoiled.

He stood quickly, his cock as angry a colour as Lucius had ever seen it. The serpent bit painfully into his skin, but Snape never complained and never neglected to wear it.

Lucius leant forward, head tilted to look up at Snape's face. The younger man didn't dare touch him, for which Lucius was glad. Fun as it would be to magically restrain him, it was getting late and there was only so much, surely, that Snape could take. He kissed each jutting hip bone. He kissed the navel dusted with wiry black hair. And the kiss he pressed to the leaking head of Snape's cock was open-mouthed, his tongue swirling over the sticky head. He could feel the thrum of Snape's pulse through his skin.

"Will I ever be allowed to come?" Snape asked petulantly.

Lucius laughed and spread a long lick up the length of the hot, heavy shaft. "Probably not. Does that bother you?"

He fought with himself for a moment. "I come when I'm not here. I think about this, and it never takes long. But I don't just think about you."

"Is that a confession, Snape?" Lucius grinned. He pulled Snape's cock downwards and released it so it slapped back up against his belly. Snape winced but took it, as he would take whatever Lucius saw fit to give him.

"I think about a girl."

Oh, so it was a confession. Lucius sighed and leaned back in his chair, tucking himself away. "I'm not an Agony Aunt. Write to Witch Weekly for relationship advice."

"The Dark Lord...wouldn't approve."

Lucius held up a hand, his patience rapidly disappearing. "Enough. Go home."

Snape sighed, dropping back to his knees. He never dressed while Lucius was present, always waited for him to leave the room before slinking away. Lucius returned the mirror to its correct place and stood, stretching his limbs. He looked down at the bowed, dark head. "If the Dark Lord wouldn't approve, don't let him find out. That means keeping your mouth shut, to me as well. Don't make me be the one to give you away."

For years Lucius had been sure the Dark Lord could read minds, had in fact been getting better at it. He almost certainly knew what Lucius and Snape did late and alone in Lucius's study. It was half the reason he gained so much credit for Snape's progress.

Without imparting any more inciminating advice, Lucius swept from the room and went upstairs. At the thought of his beautiful wife he began to harden again, anticipating the welcome which would hopefully still be warm.

But the candles had been extinguished, and Narcissa lay naked and asleep atop the covers. Beside her was the mirror Lucius kept on his night stand. He narrowed his eyes and picked it up, looking not at a reflection of himself but at the bent figure of Severus Snape, leaning down to tie his shoe lace. Lucius replaced the mirror on the night stand, and took Narcissa's hand, kissing her fingers as she slept. He breathed in and smiled at the unmistakable scent of Narcissa's cunt on her fingers. Lucius climbed into bed beside his wife and pulled her close. She murmured in her sleep and snuggled into him. "Did you see  
something you liked, Narcissa?" he asked, smiling.

She didn't answer, asleep or feigning it. He grinned as he kissed her hair and fell happily asleep beside her.


	2. Family

Routine came easily in the months that followed. They carried on as  
they had been, as though Snape's little treat never happened. He  
didn't ask for the honour again and Lucius didn't feel Snape had done  
anything particular to deserve it. There was no more mention of a  
girl, for which Lucius was relieved. Nor did Narcissa discuss what  
she may or may not have seen in Lucius' spying mirror. That night was  
an anomaly, and normality was quickly reasserted.

Snape was still studying and developing in Germany, still visited for  
evenings or the rare weekend, still slept in the library. Narcissa  
still fawned on her husband and flirted with anyone else, within  
reason. The Dark Lord continued to be pleased and grew in power and  
influence. They were close now, very close, to completely taking over  
the Ministry. If it came to a vote, to common public opinion, Lucius  
thought they could probably bully their way into a majority. Those on  
the fence became steadily more susceptible to rhetoric, if not to the  
growing realisation that theirs was the greater power. Hogwarts was  
the last bastion, the last institute where the Death Eaters could not  
seem to insinuate themselves. Dumbledore was too wily by half and  
somehow kept them out with diplomacy, never outright enough to ruffle  
feathers or give opportunity for a vote of no-confidence, but firm  
enough to keep them frustrated.

It had been some weeks since Snape had dropped in for a visit. Lucius  
didn't worry. It was to be expected that the so-called prodigy would  
be kept busy. Though he had heard that the surly fuck had made a  
great friendship with Karkaroff, an equally toadyish grim-looking  
wanker. The Death Eaters, it seemed, were doomed to be an ugly bunch.

They sat together to eat breakfast at a table that was unnecessarily  
large. Narcissa buttered toast. She was not keen on over-eating in  
the morning, and the last couple of weeks her stomach seemed to have  
been particularly delicate. Lucius himself believed in starting the  
day with a hearty meal, and was dipping fresh baked bread into runny  
egg yolk when the fire flared green and a singed letter was spat out  
onto the hearth.

Neither Malfoy moved, but waited for Stubby to collect the missive and  
bring it to the table. The little elf stumped towards Narcissa, a  
silver platter confurred in one hand and the brushed-off letter placed  
atop it to be served to her with a low bow. She didn't acknowledge  
the elf as she took the envelope, a little smile curling her lips at  
the handwriting. Narcissa sliced it open with her wand and took out a  
sheet of creamy vellum with a small, cramped not written in the top  
corner.

Lucius went back to his breakfast. Chances were he didn't want to know.

"Fucking hell!"

Lucius looked up at the exclamation. It was rare for Narcissa to drop  
the proper young lady act, even when they were alone.

After some moments she looked up and realised he was waiting for an  
explanation. "Snape's father has died."

He thought for a moment. "Is it the father that's a Muggle?"

"Oh, Lucius!" She slapped a hand on the table causing the silver  
service to rattle. "Does it matter? A father's a father!"

He huffed, not convinced. His own father had died during his infancy,  
his mother not far behind. Lucius had been raised almost entirely by  
Hogwarts professors and pureblood families who wanted his money. He  
rather held the opinion that he had grown up quite adequately with  
minimal parentage, so what possible difference or attachment could  
they really make?

"I'm inviting him to stay. He needs to make funeral arrangements.  
Stubby, make up the green room."

"Snape stays in the library," Lucius said. The elf paused comically,  
half way between the door and the table, unsure who to obey.

Narcissa huffed. "Not this time. He's grieving, he will be sleeping  
in a bed, with some privacy." She conjurred a quill and started  
writing her reply there and then. Under her breath she muttered,  
"You'll leave him alone this time."

His wife's poor health had made her moods fractious for the last few  
weeks and Lucius had learned to choose his battles if he didn't want  
to end up spending the day making amends when he'd really done no  
wrong. He cut a rasher of bacon viciously and thought, 'He probably  
doesn't want to be left alone'.

When Snape flooed into the drawing room later that day, he looked much  
as he always did. His mode of dress had got steadily better, though  
Lucius had yet to see him forego a black ensemble; his hair was still  
a travesty. Without looking up, Snape began to unbutton his overcoat,  
kicking off his shoes. Tactfully, Narcissa cleared her throat from  
her place beside the bookshelf, her eyes demurely lowered to the open  
book in her hand. Snape looked up and actually scowled at her,  
sharing a quick look with Lucius before stepping back into his shoes.

"Severus, we're both so sorry for your loss," Narcissa said after a  
moment's tactful delay, laying her book on the desk and crossing the  
room to embrace her former tutor.

Snape tolerated the contact but didn't seem to enjoy it. "Don't be,"  
he said tersely. "The whole thing is a fucking inconvenience."

Lucius resisted the urge to crow.

Despite silent resistance by non-compliance, Narcissa successfully  
fussed Snape into a chair and had him served a cup of tea and a  
chocolate biscuit. The man looked mutinous. Lucius tried not to look  
amused. It was, after all, a somber occasion.

"I'll need to connect the house up to the Floo, I'm not apparating  
back and fore," Snape mumbled to himself, apparently answering  
questions no one had posed. "There will be a telephone there, I can  
try and sort out a funeral directors. Fucking hell."

Lucius didn't know what a 'telephone' was, but floo networks at least  
he understood. "Send the network a note on our letterheaded paper, it  
will be done quicker."

"Is there anything we can do, Severus?" Narcissa said, leaning into  
the other man and threatening him with more physical 'comfort'.

"If I could stay here I would be very grateful. I would rather not  
stay at the house."

"I already had a guest bedroom prepared for you," Narcissa threw her  
husband a smug look.

But Snape was frowning deeply and turned to Lucius. He opened his  
mouth to protest but Lucius shook his head very slightly. Not now.  
Not with Narcissa so fractious.

Snape mostly seemed to want to be left alone. He had letters to write  
and connections to organise. The floo was sorted in a record two  
hours after the letter was sent, and he vanished into green flames.  
"He's not happy about the bedroom," Lucius said softly, stroking  
Narcissa's hair as she rested her head in his lap. "He likes it in  
the library."

"And how do you know so well what he likes?" Narcissa asked. She  
looked up at him, pale grey eyes wide but knowing. His pretty wife  
might like to play the dumb blonde, but she was a sorted Slytherin for  
a reason: very little escaped her notice, especially where men were  
concerned.

"Because we talk," Lucius said, stroking her hair and praying this  
wouldn't all descend into an argument. "And I understand him, my  
little viper. He isn't like us."

"Don't start about him being a half-blood," Narcissa began, but Lucius  
laid gentle fingers over her lips to silence her.

"That's not what I meant. He's not used to money. He thinks it's  
charity. Snape would rather be poor and proud and know that he got  
everything he owns on his own merit, than stay a single night in a  
luxurient guest bedroom and think he was being bought."

"He stays in the guest room," Narcissa said, nipping his silencing  
fingers. "This time at least." Her eyes flickered to the mirror over  
the fire place.

So, it was privacy. She thought Lucius would spy on him at a time  
that was private. He shrugged. If that was her reasoning, let her  
make their guest uncomfortable, let her think she was saving poor  
abused Snape. It made no odds to him.

Midnight came and passed. Narcissa went to bed, leaving Lucius with a  
hard warning look. It was on his mind to forbid her to use his spy  
mirror, but then she had been so tired lately. By now she would be  
sound asleep. Lucius himself was threatening to nod off, the words of  
his book growing blurred, his empty glass daring him to re-fill it and  
risk another dose of alcohol that would almost certainly put him to  
sleep. He was about to give the evening over as a bad job, mentally  
berrating himself for staying up in the first place. Snape might have  
started their normal routine as soon as he stepped across the  
threshold, but he wasn't himself. It might even be that he was late  
back to deliberately avoid an encounter that he wasn't in a fit state  
to handle. Lucius had just decided to write a note for Snape and go  
to bed, when the embers in the grate sizzled into high green flames  
and Severus Snape was spat from the fire.

Beetle black eyes were heavy-lidded and smudged with shadows, but  
still sharp as they swept the room. His gaze finally rested on  
Lucius. "Good, you're still up. I wasn't sure." As earlier, he  
started to unfasten the two dozen buttons that covered his topcoat.

"That's not necessary," Lucius said, stretching like a cat and  
realising how truly bone-tired he was. "I just wanted to see you got  
back safely. You should go to bed."

Snape scowled. "I'd rather not," his eyes flicked up to Lucius's face  
and he muttered, "If it's all the same."

Lucius tilted his head to one side. Snape's fingers had stilled,  
awaiting permission to continue. He would go to bed if ordered, but  
his body was tight with apprehension. To be sent away would clearly  
be deemed a punishment. Lucius drew the persona around him like a  
cloak, straightening in his chair and adopting a lazy drawl. "Make it  
quick, then. I don't like to keep Narcissa waiting."

Shoulders slumping with relief, Snape returned to his buttons. Lucius  
huffed and waved his wand at the other man. The clothes Vanished.  
They would reappear in Snape's rooms. Was that a little smile?  
Certainly the first he had seen that day. Snape dropped, with as much  
grace as a teenager could possess, to his knees. His cock was not  
hard, the serpent was not in place. So what the fuck did he want?

After a few moments' silence, Snape lifted his eyes uncertainly.  
"Aren't you going to ask?" he said quietly.

Merlin, Lucius was tired. The strangeness of the situation, the  
inconsistencies from routine, had made him reticent. "How did you  
fuck up?" Lucius said, feeling cruel.

"I hated him," Snape said almost immediately.

Well, fuck. This was not a conversation Lucius wanted to have.  
Perhaps latent Daddy issues had led Snape to so enjoy kneeling at his  
feet, grubbing for praise and aching for punishment. If that was the  
case, Lucius really didn't want to know.

"He was Muggle scum," Snape spat, "A selfish bastard, and he hated me.  
He hated Mum. He hated that we were different, but he wouldn't fuck  
off. We were special and he was a useless fuck. I hate him."

Nothing sexual there at least. That was a blessing. Lucius steepled  
his fingers in front of his face. "Is hating someone the same as  
fucking up?"

Little rosy patches bloomed on Snape's cheeks. "No," he said mutinously.

"Then why are you telling me this?"

He was quiet for a long time, breathing hard.

"Because when I fuck up I feel like shit. This -- hating him and now  
he's dead -- that feels like shit. If I tell you it always feels  
better."

Lucius ran a hand over his face. It was so easy sometimes to forget  
how young Snape was. "I can't make this better, Snape. I can't fix  
it. Look at you, I can't even fuck it out of you."

A loud sniff echoed in the room and Lucius cursed under his breath.  
Anything but tears.

"What do you want me to tell you? It's understandable that you hated  
your father. He sounds like the sort of prick I'd like to hex.  
You're working with people who will see that sort of attitude is  
eliminated. Now that individual is dead, and you can feel happy or  
you can feel sad or you can feel both. I really can't change that. I  
wouldn't if I could. A man's feelings are his own, thank Merlin. No  
one can change that."

The sniffing had stopped and Lucius was grateful.

"I'm both," Snape muttered eventually, "And I don't understand why. I  
should just be glad."

"Oh, for fuck sakes, come here," Lucius said.

Snape looked up uncertainly then crawled to Lucius's chair. Lucius  
pulled him closer, encouraged the greasy head into his lap and stroked  
his neck, his shoulders. The tense muscles relaxed. "Don't cry,"  
Lucius said. Snape's obedience surely wouldn't let him disobey a  
direct order. And to his credit, he didn't cry. He just breathed.

"Narcissa is insisting you stay in a guest room. She seems under the  
impression I'll take advantage of you if you're in the library."

Snape snorted from his lap. "Only this time, though?" he asked.

"Only this time. I explained ... as much as I thought appropriate."

"Thank you," the words came out stifled by a yawn.

Lucius ran a hand down Snape's spine, short nails grazing the skin.  
Snape stiffened slightly, his breathing stalling. "I don't think I  
can tonight," he said softly, apologetically.

"It was meant to be comfort, not sex. Filthy slut." There was a deep  
chuckle that rumbled against his thigh and Snape sat up. His cock  
belied his words, twitching and filling slowly against his thigh. But  
his face was so tired, gaunt and tired.

"Would you come to the funeral? And Narcissa?" he asked. "I've asked  
... I asked an old friend but I don't know if she will. We're not  
really talking. I don't think I can stand all the Muggles on my own."

He didn't want to, and doing things he didn't want went very heavily  
against Lucius's nature. Despite this, Lucius found himself nodding.

"To bed," he said, pushing Snape gently away. "And wank as much as  
you want. My treat."

Snape laughed again, scrubbing a hand across his face and standing.  
Lucius stood as well, and couldn't resist brushing his fingers along  
Snape's half-interested length. When the taller man whimpered, Lucius  
laughed softly. He thought, perhaps just once, perhaps one day, it  
might be nice to fuck Snape in a bed as an equal. Then he saw the  
needy look return to Snape's eye, the glint of hate and need, and knew  
that that would never happen.

*

The funeral was an uncomfortable affair, physically and emotionally.  
Snape would not have dared dictate what Lucius could or could not  
wear, but Narcissa had said they must make some effort towards Muggle  
attire. Suits, not robes. Coats, not cloaks. And black. In a minor  
act of rebellion, Lucius had taken her to her word. Black shirt,  
black tie, black suit, black socks and shoes. He had tried to get  
away with a very fine black silk top hat which had, in fact, been his  
father's, but Narcissa would not have it -- and as the reason for her  
delicate health was becoming steadily more apparent, Lucius indulged  
her. She herself looked ravishing as ever in a long gown of Italian  
lace that clung to her figure. Lucius scanned her abdomen for signs  
of a bump -- but perhaps it was too soon. It was apparently too soon  
for him to be told. What was the superstition? Three months? It  
would pass soon enough, and it was three months he would not have to  
spend fussing over names and nurseries and finding a nanny elf. The  
fact of a child, an heir, was a wondrous thing. But Merlin save him  
from the domestic whirlwind that would come with it.

They flooed to 'the house', which revealed itself to be a pokey Muggle  
hovel with small windows and too much furniture. Snape stood  
self-consciously in the doorway waiting for them. His lips quirked  
when he saw Lucius's attire -- the older man even gave a twirl to show  
off what a good little mourning Muggle he could be. The black ribbon  
in his hair, he thought, was an especially nice touch.

But when Snape stepped forward, it was towards Narcissa. He kissed  
her cheek and raked dark eyes over her body. "You must wear that  
again when I'm better able to appreciate it." Narcissa giggled. When  
had Snape become so smooth? They must be teaching him more than  
potions in Germany.

They shook hands stiffly. All exchange that didn't involve nudity and  
insults and erections seemed to be awkward. Perhaps as it should be,  
if Snape was going to flirt with his wife.

"The church is only a short walk."

A church. How quaint. Lucius gestured Snape to lead the way, and  
they walked from the house, which was part of a birck terrace. Snape  
flicked his wand at the door to lock it, which earned him a nod of  
approval. If he was to make any sort of a home here, best to start  
de-Muggling it now.

The walk was through more streets that all looked the same. Really,  
how was one to navigate through such a warren? How did these people  
live with it? The monotony, the dirt, the congestion. Like rats or  
ants or some other pest. Disgusting.

The church was just as sorry for itself. Red brick and a meagre  
spire, surrounded by stubby grave stones that all looked alike. A  
small throng of people had congregated around a hole, its walls pocked  
with stone and a puddle at the bottom. Undertakers who were dressed  
very like Lucius himself, lowered a plain wooden casket into the hole,  
and a minister of some description -- who was, apparently, allowed to  
wear robes -- started intoning some words that were vaguely familiar.  
Lucius thought of his own family crypt. He had only been young when  
his mother died, but there had at least had some pride and pomp to the  
occasion. She lay entombed in a white mausoleum beneath the manor,  
beside his father, beside all of his ancestors. Each tomb was carved  
with angels and spirits, some leafed with gold. One, he knew, seemed  
to be constructed of peacock feathers. But every one was different,  
every one a reflection of the person whose life had been extinguished.  
How dismal it would be, thought Lucius, to live a life which must  
have some distinguishing features, then die and be taken to a place  
where everything looked the same. He hoped his son or daughter, even  
if they hated him, would do him the good deed of laying him to rest in  
something as beautiful and unique as he aspired to be in life.

On top of it all, it then began to rain.

Lucius huffed and stamped his feet, eager to leave. Where was Snape?

Snape was with a stranger. "There's a woman," he had said, "The Dark  
Lord would not approve."

Lucius approved, if this was the woman in question. Smaller than  
Narcissa, but with the same creamy skin. Her hair was thick and long,  
a rich autumn red like turning maple leaves. She wore a short black  
dress with high boots and white pockets, large dark glasses on her  
eyes. She picked up a handful of earth and dutifully dropped it onto  
the coffin, brushing off her hands and going straight to Snape, who  
stood taller and prouder than Lucius had ever seen. She leaned in to  
him and he bent to let her kiss his cheek. Long pale fingers settled  
on her hip, the other hand now on the small of her back, pulling her  
close. Lucius was good at reading people, and he saw that their  
bodies didn't shy away from one another. They melted together, Snape  
bending to almost tuck the young woman into himself.

She pulled away and took off her glasses. Her eyes were red-rimmed  
from tears, possibly the only tears that had been shed that day. None  
of the men and women in shabby suits or black jeans looked inclined to  
cry. She was saying something, and Lucius squinted, trying to make  
out the words. No use. Snape's brows drew together and he took her  
hand, holding onto it, almost as though about to drag her away. She  
shook her head and smiled sadly. She took her hand back and cupped  
his cheek. The girl went to kiss his cheek, but Snape turned his head  
at the last minute and kissed her lips instead. Cheeky fuck. She was  
smiling, though. But still left, leaving Snape looking surly and  
rejected.

The black eyes swept his way and Lucius held his gaze.

"Who's the redhead?" Lucius asked his wife, without taking his eyes  
off Snape. The younger man was pretending not to notice and doing a  
bad job of it.

"Lily Evans. Or I think she's married now, so she'd be Lily Potter."  
She leaned close, her warm breath tickled Lucius's ear. "Mudblood,"  
she breathed.

Ah, so that was it. Lucius could imagine what the falling out was all about.

Absently he noticed that he was no longer getting wet. He glanced at  
Narcissa who was perfectly, suspiciously dry beside him. He saw the  
tip of her wand slip back inside her elegant sleeves and she winked at  
him. So much for standing out amongst the Muggles. But none of the  
dimwits seemed to notice the two mourners who stayed perfectly dry,  
though the rain had started soaking everyone else. They put up  
umbrellas and trudged away, some shaking Snape's hand or just nodding  
in his direction.

"Shall we go home and have some tea?" Narcissa asked breezily as they  
moved towards Snape, the last at the graveside as the diggers started  
at their work. Apparently her sympathy extended to the point of  
burial, and after that mourning was to desist. Her smile was radiant  
and Lucius thought how beautiful their child would be.

Tea was had, and cake and sandwiches. No one mentioned the Mudblood  
or the funeral at all. They talked about Snape's studies and  
discoveries, about the whims of the Dark Lord -- always in the most  
reverential of tones, but with a growing understanding that the Lord  
their Master was a capricious Master. Snape was working on something  
for him, something special, but smugly wouldn't tell them what.

Narcissa lounged across his lap and looked impatient to take him to  
bed. Insatiable. Merlin, how he loved her.

"We should go up," Lucius said. The tip-toeing around Snape had  
apparently stopped so he felt free to slide his hand over Narcissa's  
rump as he pushed her upright. As he stood she turned to kiss him,  
pressing against the length of his body. He gripped her hips and made  
sure she felt how much he enjoyed the sight of her in that dress.

"Could we talk a moment?" Snape asked. He was discretely looking down  
at his empty glass of wine. Black wool did very little to disguise  
the bulge in his trousers.

Narcissa looked annoyed but smiled sweetly at their gust. She kissed  
Lucius again and whispered in his ear, "You need to talk to your pet  
about sharing."

Lucius couldn't help snorting and slapped her flank playfully as she  
turned to walk away. "I won't be long," he said, looking at Snape as  
he said it.

The door clicked softly shut and Snape moved to get up. "No games  
tonight, Snape." He sat on the sofa, purposely breaking from their  
routine. "No stripping, no kneeling. Just talk to me."

There was the crease between the brows. "Do you not like it any more?"

"I'm not here to reassure your fragile ego. Get on with it, I want to  
fuck my wife."

Lips too thin to pout just made a distinct down turn. "You saw me  
with Lily," he said.

"Yes."

"You know who she is?"

Lucius raised one shoulder in a shrug. "Mudblood."

His jaw tensed and he was silent for a moment. "You won't tell the Dark Lord?"

He rolled his eyes in response. "Your egocentricism really knows no  
bounds. No, I will not tell the Dark Lord. Because no one gives a  
fuck."

Fuck, but would he ever get tired of that angry flush, and just how  
turned on Snape got when he was put in his place?

"And you're not..." Snape looked away, embarrassed -- either because  
of the subject, or because he was asking the question at all.

"Jealous?" Lucius offered in a scathing tone. Snape's colouration  
told him he had the right word. They had buried Snape's father that  
day and, hate him or not, it must have been a trial for Snape. But  
Lucius simply couldn't help the loud guffaw of laughter that erupted  
from him. "Am I jealous that a Mudblood married to someone else  
kissed you?" Lucius got up and took a leisurely stroll towards Snape,  
hands in his pockets and posture suggesting a couldn't-give-a-fuck  
attitude. "Correction: went to kiss your cheek and had a kiss stolen  
from her." He tutted and shook his head. "Not very gentlemanly, by  
the way." Lucius leaned down, placing a hand on either side of  
Snape's head and bracing himself against the chair so he could lean  
right in. "Of course I don't care. And do you know why?"

Snape shook his head mutely, lips parted, breathing heavy.

"Because it doesn't matter how many pretty Mudbloods flutter and  
simper at you. This," he slid his hand between Snape's thighs and  
squeezed the rigid erection he found there. "This will always be the  
effect I have on you. And there's fuck all you can do about that. Is  
there?"

Again, Snape shook his head without a word. He rocked his hip up into  
Lucius's hand and, for a moment, Lucius let him.

"Now," Lucius said straightening and smoothing his waistcoat.  
"Mustn't keep a wet woman waiting." And without a backwards glance he  
left the room.

*

The next time Snape visited, a scant week later, all was as it had  
been and should be. They enjoyed an evening's drink, and the men  
retired to the drawing room. Snape stripped and knelt. Lucius  
berrated him then let him hump against his bare foot. The silver  
serpent twined tightly around his cock prevented him from coming and  
Lucius decided he would enjoy a long leisurely wank at the sight of  
Snape's frustration. He was, after all, celebrating. It was  
official, St Mungo's had confirmed it. There would be a happy event  
in June. Snape was itching to touch him, that much was clear. So  
Lucius shot cords from his wand to bind Snape's hands behind his back.  
He had to work, then, to keep his balance and spread his legs  
deliciously, still humping up against Lucius's foot.

He laughed as a wonderful mental image came to mind. "I wonder what  
your Mudblood would think," he mused aloud, "If she could see what you  
really like."

Snape snarled and bared his teeth, thrusting eratically. His anger  
fuelled Lucius's desire. "Open your mouth, Snape, I'm going to spunk  
on you."

Not only did he open his mouth but put out his tongue to catch and  
taste whatever he could. Lucius groaned and stood on shaking legs.  
He fisted his cock until he could take no more and shot his load onto  
Snape's waiting face. Only some of his ejaculate landed in Snape's  
mouth, the rest staining his cheek and chin and chest. It dripped  
slowly and Snape could do nothing about it with his hands tied, but he  
didn't seem to care.

"Please can I come?" he sobbed, his cock bobbing in the air, hungry  
for friction. "Please, I don't think I can take it."

Lucius smirked. He might just let him, but he'd have to make his  
case. "Stand up," he ordered, offering no assistance to the bound  
man. With more grace than Lucius probably could have managed, Snape  
staggered to his feet. His cock was at face height and Lucius blew on  
it gently, making Snape grit his teeth. "Better?" he asked  
innocently.

"Please, Lucius. I never ask. Please, though, please let me come."

"Why should I?" Lucius asked, trailing his fingers over the rigid,  
burning length. "You've been an arrogant, cocky prick and I can't  
stand the sight of you. Why should I let you come?"

"I can't ... I can't sleep like this. Please. If I can't sleep I  
can't brew, and the Dark Lord..."

Lucius raised an eyebrow and gripped Snape's cock. The young man  
moaned, hips rocking though the serpent constricted tighter, keeping  
him from the inevitable. "Don't you dare threaten me with the Dark  
Lord."

"No!" Snape said, his eyes wide and pleading, "I didn't mean that!  
Only ... please! I can't wait."

The blonde smirked and sat back in his chair. He raised his wand at  
the serpent and thought the password -- it wouldn't do for Snape to  
find it out. The serpent loosened, its silver head turning to look at  
him as the sinnuous body slid around Snape's member. The little  
silver tongue flickered out to taste the air.

"Come then," Lucius said, looking at Snape expectantly.

That frown line was made deeper by desperation and frustration. "Undo  
my hands!"

"You dare to order me?" Lucius hissed. He slapped Snape's cock with  
his fingers, hiding his amusement as Snape bobbed on the balls of hit  
feet for more. "Dirty, worthless little fuck. You want to come --  
let's see it then."

"I need-"

"I am tired of your needs, Snape," he lied. "I am allowing you to  
come, I suggest you find a way to do so."

Snape looked around in desperation before his eyes lit on Lucius's  
coat, slung over the back of a chair. He hurried to it and rubbed his  
pelvis against the luxuriant wool -- not able to apply much pressure  
for fear of the chair tipping, but at least finding some sensation.  
His thrusting grew frenzied, desperate, his eyes closing in  
concentration. He didn't even hear Lucius rise, seemed completely  
unaware of the other man's position behind him until Lucius fisted his  
hand in Snape's hair.

"Don't you dare stain my coat."

He howled in frustration, bucking faster, his skin slick with sweat.  
At the last moment he turned his body away from the garment. His cock  
twitched and leaked, probably a whisper from coming. Lucius thought  
of that feeling, that immense feeling when the come was halfway up  
your cock, just needing that last crucial sensory push.

"Please, please, please," Snape begged.

"Come for me then, you lazy fuck," Lucius snarled, grinning, and he  
bit down on Snape's shoulder.

He was quiet, so quiet, considering the panting and groaning that had  
accompanied his efforts up to that point. Lucius kissed the bite mark  
before he could stop himself, hoping Snape didn't notice. He touched  
his wand to Snape's hands, releasing the bonds, and felt Snape's  
fingers brush his renewing erection. He wiped a hand across his chin  
and licked up the remaining spunk. His eyes were dark and lust filled  
when he looked down at Lucius -- fuck, had he had a growth spurt?

"Do you want to come again?" Snape asked.

Lucius ignored him because there wasn't an easy answer. Obviously he  
wanted to come again, but the spell of his control over Snape was  
starting to fade. He could get it back, but it was easier just to go  
to Narcissa.

"Did you enjoy that?" Lucius asked instead. He took a step back and  
let Snape get to his wand to clean up the various messes they had both  
made.

Snape looked puzzled. "Obviously it felt good."

"But," Lucius prompted.

"It didn't feel like I came properly."

Lucius smirked, "You probably didn't. It's not easy, when you've got  
nothing pushing it on." He remained quiet for a while, letting Snape  
collect himself. When Snape returned to his kneeling position, Lucius  
stood beside him. "You'd rather not, in future?"

Black eyes looked up at him, silently seeking permission. Lucius  
nodded. "If you'll make me come or if you'll let me get myself off  
properly..." His eyes unfocused for a moment and there was a  
thickening interest in his cock. What it was to be young.

"If you can noisily and messily shoot your load with wild abandon?"

Snape nodded. "But I didn't like it like that. It's ... it's not as  
good as just being on my own and coming properly. Even with you  
watching."

Even with you watching. He added exhibitionist to Snape's list of  
unknowing kinks. It was becoming a long list and his apparent  
ignorance only made exploring each item all the sweeter. He wondered,  
if asked, if Snape could even verbalise all of what he enjoyed, or if  
this expanding list was all Lucius's to exploit as he saw fit. One  
day he might ask, just out of interest -- if it weren't for the  
jarring suspicion that if asked, "What do you like?" Snape might  
answer, "You."

*

In the months that followed, Lucius was ashamed to admit he began to  
rely on Snape. As Narcissa's belly grew, she was more tired, more  
sickly. The baby seemed to take everything out of her and what it  
left behind was a woman who had shadows beneath her eyes, no matter  
how much she slept; she ate and ate, but her face seemed to waste away  
to gauntness. At around the six month mark she started fainting  
whenever she went upstairs, and a new room had to be made up for her  
downstairs. St Mungo's assured them it was all perfectly normal and  
the baby was healthy, but it was the mother that Lucius worried about.

Snape, whether out of loyalty to Lucius or some latent besotted  
feelings for Narcissa, researched ways to help. It was difficult for  
him to fit additional work around whatever his duties were in Germany,  
but he would send potions and dietary recommendations. Narcissa  
gained weight a little under his suggestions and her sleep grew patchy  
but at least seemed to rest her body properly. They would lie  
together, just teh two of them, in the evenings. Lucius's hand would  
curl around her belly, as it always had, and he would feel the  
movement of the third member of their family. He would kiss Narcissa,  
whatever part of her he could reach without waking or disturbing her,  
and wish that he knew how to make her safe.

Needless to say, her body was exhausted -- to exhausted even to  
partake in the things it enjoyed. Sex tailed off, and Lucius didn't  
begrudge it of her. She would stroke him and kiss him, her smile a  
little wan but as provocative as ever. He, in return, would whet his  
fingers between her legs, smoothing her tight little cunt to a fitful  
orgasm, at which point she would fall blissfully asleep. Fucking  
seemed a step too far, logistically. He was terrified of damaging the  
baby in some way and, by proxy, damaging Narcissa.

"Nothing will change afterwards," she promised him softly as she wiped  
his spunk from the back of her hand. Lucius stretched in blissful  
afterglow and held her close.

"Of course it won't. I know."

"Thank you for understanding."

That had stung. Lucius knew he had a bit of a tom cat reputation, but  
that was something they had in common. Lucius would casually slide  
his hand down another woman's robes, Narcissa would press her body  
against another man, and at the end of the night they'd fuck  
spectacularly and laugh about it together. Snape was the only  
exception, but Narcissa seemed to accept that.

Inevitably, session with the Potions protege grew longer and more  
intense. More and more often he would let Snape bring him off, in his  
mouth or with his hand. It was no longer a treat for Snape but a  
release for Lucius, a dirty sordid avenue in which he could fulfill  
the lusts with which Narcissa temporarily could not cope. If Snape  
minded that he was the vessel for Lucius's pent up frustrations, he  
never showed it. Nor did he beg to come as he brought Lucius to  
thrashing, moaning orgasm. His cock twitched and throbbed as it had  
before, but he quietly bore it.

One evening Lucius was so impressed with the stellar blowjob Snape  
gave him that he returned the favour in kind -- sucking much too  
gently and licking until Snape was in a frenzy. He even left his  
hands unbound, allowing snape to comb scarred and burnt fingers  
through his silky hair.

"How will you come tomorrow?" Lucius asked before sucking one of  
Snape's balls into his mouth.

"Quickly," Snape groaned.

He was sometimes concerned that there would be problems when the baby  
was born -- problems for all three of them. There would be less time  
with a whole extra person to demand his attention. Narcissa would  
want him again, would probably worry that she had disappointed him  
with her lack of attention and cling to him in response. That would  
leave Snape at the bottom of the pile. A position he deserved,  
admittedly. But it didn't seem entirely fair, and the thought gave  
Lucius pause.

"What do you expect of me?" Lucius asked one night, somewhere between  
asking how Snape fucked up and the beginning of the sex.

Snape frowned, suspicious. "Is this a trap?" he asked.

Lucius laughed. "No, it's not a trap, idiot. Just answer."

He shrugged. "I suppose I don't expect anything. I just take what  
I'm given." He tilted his head slyly to one side. "Should I have  
expectations?"

"Absolutely not," Lucius said quickly. "I was just checking none had  
sneaked in without my notice."

The younger man had grown more upright, resolving into his normal self  
and fading out of the submissive role he played. "I've been  
practicing Legilimency," he said.

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Not another one."

"You're worried I'll feel forgotten when the baby is born."

"That's common sense, not magic."

Snape shrugged again. "I won't," he said. "You think I'm needy but  
I'm fine. This is your family. For you, family comes first."

"Not just for me," Lucius said softly. "For most people."

"I don't have any family. When I did they were fucking useless." He  
gave Lucius that look he dreaded. The one that wasn't quite doe-eyed  
but definitely suggested more reliance than made him comfortable. "I  
make my own family." He must have seen Lucius hardening, his defences  
coming up, the Dominant rising ready to slap Snape back into his  
place. "What I mean is," he said impatiently, "I can subsist on bread  
and water. But if someone offers me a slap up meal I'd be a twat to  
turn it down."

Lucius smirked. Nicely saved, he thought in Snape's direction, still  
not certain if he truly was a Legilimens or had just improved at  
reading others. Lucius flicked his wand, and vines slithered up from  
the floor, binding and spreading Snape for his delectation. It was a  
new spell, but Snape didn't struggle. He smirked knowingly as the  
vines spread his legs, and his cock jumped. Lucius stood and smoothly  
took the weight of Snape's head in his hand as the vines pulled him  
backwards to lie on the floor. He conjured a dozen soft cushions for  
himself and ropped neatly beside the other man, running a hand up his  
body. "Now then," he murmured, pulling one small nipple to a peak  
between his thumb and forefinger. "Where were we?"

Snape had never been so spoiled for sensation as he was that night.  
Lucius laid claim to his whole body with hands and mouth, caressing  
and teasing as Narcissa had loved. He had missed indulging all his  
senses in this closeness and, though he would never do it if Snape  
were not bound and lacking any control, it aroused him in a way that  
was more than physical. The pale, bony body beneath him was smothered  
in scratches and bite marks. His cock leaked onto his belly and his  
eyes erred between closing to concentrate and staying open to watch  
Lucius play. Lucius's own rock hard cock stayed painfully constrained  
in his trousers. He had decided, somewhere around the point that  
Snape started whimpering and struggling, that he would be saving his  
orgasm for Narcissa tonight.

He took his wand and placed the tip to the snake without Snape  
noticing. As the silver serpent uncoiled Snape's eyes grew wide and  
he thrust up against his bonds. "Oh, yes! Yes, fuck, please Lucius!"

Lucius smiled down at Snape and wrapped a hand around his slender  
length. "You're not to come yet, though," he murmured. "Come before  
I say and this will never, ever happen again."

Snape's eyes closed and he bit hard into his lower lip. "Oh no you  
don't," Lucius chuckled. "Open your eyes and watch me. I want you  
overloaded. You said you didn't want to come without sensation, and  
I'm going to give you just what you asked for, you greedy little  
slut." His hand was gentle and slow. The vines bit into Snape's  
hips, keeping him from thrusting. His fingers slid through viscous  
fluid and used it to coat Snape's prick, fingers brushing lower to  
stroke his balls, and then pump his dick more firmly. "Not yet,"  
Lucius crooned, "Not yet."

Lucius was timing him on his pocket watch. He made a point of taking  
it out and looking, smirking, letting Snape wonder if there was a  
target when. If he could just be good for long enough, if he could  
just hold on. It reality, Lucius was just enjoying making him string  
it out -- and knew that Snape loved it too. When he would get too  
desperate, too close, his hand would skitter away. And always he kept  
the touches gentle, slow, steady rhythms.

Meanwhile Snape kept up a littany made up equally of pleading and  
expletives. Lucius teased him, "Not yet, not yet," and told him what  
a worthless desperate bitch he was.

When Lucius's own arousal began to reach a fever pitch -- he could  
feel the stickiness in his underwear and knew he must go to Narcissa  
soon or he would cave in and fuck the man -- he stroked Snape firmly.  
Fast, brusque strokes that made him howl, not even able to form the  
words to beg any more. He could see the moment on the horizon, see  
Snape's control fracturing dangerously. Lucius leaned down beside  
Snape, slowing his hand for the first time. A tear squeezed from  
Snape's eye as he thought the opportunity was passing. Lucius licked  
the tear and, his lips close to Snape's, whispered, "Now."

His reaction was not instant, which in some ways surprised Lucius.  
But then, he had never kept anyone waiting this long, or dealt with  
anyone who came even close to Snape's levels of self control. He  
jerked him five or six more times while Snape gritted his teeth and  
stared him in the eye. Then the long release of breath that came out  
in a high pitched, mewling moan. Lucius grinned, squeezing and  
pumping Snape's cock faster, past the point of over sensitivity.

Then all at once, thin and unpracticed lips were on his. They had  
never kissed before, ever. His hand paused for a moment, before  
sinnuously continuing its movement. Snape's whole body shuddered,  
breaking the kiss. "Sorry," Snape said quickly, eyes closing.

"Don't do it again," Lucius replied. He licked his lips, tasting  
mint. Muggle toothpaste, his fuzzy mind offered. Bizarre.

In the flick of a wand Lucius was up, the cushions vanished, the vines  
retracted, the spunk banished from his hand. He didn't say another  
word but swept from the room.

It wasn't too late.

He turned the hallways to Narcissa's make shift room. She was  
sleeping, naked and pale and beautiful. He undressed and curled his  
body around hers, his hot, heavy cock nudging her thigh. "Ciss," he  
whispered in her ear, lifting her hair and kissing whatever skin he  
found beneath. "I'm sorry Ciss."

"Hmmm?" she murmured, rolling towards him in her sleep. She smiled at  
the feel of his erection. "Hello," she said, possibly to Lucius,  
possibly to his cock.

"Please?" he asked, pressing her hand downwards. But she rolled away  
from him. Lucius groaned in frustration.

"You're in luck," she whispered, backing up towards him. Her perfect  
arse smoothed against his needy flesh and Lucius gripped her hip. "I  
was dreaming about you."

Narcissa raised her leg and it was all the encouragement Lucius  
needed. He was gripping her, inside her and enveloped in heat and  
wet. Fuck, how had he forgotten how good that felt? How could he  
bare to take second best? How could she think he would fuck anyone  
else when he had experienced this?

Lucius thrust inside of her, long and slow, the way she had always  
liked. She moaned and clawed at his hip, encouraging him onwards.  
Lucius's hand slid between her thighs, fingers dipping into familiar  
territory and sliding against her just so.

"Fuck, I love you," she moaned, her channel already tightening around him.

"I'm not going to last, Ciss," he groaned, already feeling the heat  
rising up his cock.

"Then don't, love." She turned her head and nipped at him arm. He  
could feel her smile in the darkness against her skin, and it was all  
he needed to send him into ecstacies.

He pinched and rolled her hard little clit, and Narcissa ground back  
against his waning cock. "Come for me, little viper," he murmured  
against her neck and starting to flick her bud faster.

When she came, he felt her cunt flutter around his cock. "So good,"  
she murmured, turning to face him again and awkwardly curling her body  
against his. The baby kicked. Narcissa took his hand and sucked on  
his fingers. Even in the dim light, he could see her pale eyes  
shining as she watched him. "Not long now," she whispered, kissing  
his chest and settling her head on him to go back to sleep.

"Not long now," he echoed.


	3. Closer

Though Lucius would never know it, there is a popular Muggle theory that unprotected sexual intercourse is an excellent way to induce labour. Perhaps, if he had taken a greater interest in the science of semen enzymes and placental membranes, he would have exercise more caution. As it was, Lucius fell asleep blissfully unaware of the sharp pains that Narcissa was beginning to feel. She lay on her side, watching the moon's progress across the sky and breathing deeply. She had been feeling the pains for some days sporadically and they would always stop after an hour or so. Surely, surely these too would stop. She wasn't yet due. There was another three weeks to go. Nothing  
was prepared yet.

Then she shifted to her other side, wincing at the flare of heartburn that came with the movement. She felt a hot, wet rush between her legs. Just Lu's spunk, she told herself. She had not had the energy to get up to wash afterwards. Everything was fine. The pain would stop and Snape was there, she could lie in while the men ate breakfast together. Snape would keep Lu from fussing.

But the fluid that rushed down her thighs and soaked into the sheet beneath was too much, too watery to be the result of their love-making. She felt a sinking feeling in her belly, above the place where her baby, her boy, kicked insistently. The head was low -- "engaged", she remembered the midwitch saying -- and everything was in place. The Malfoys were an impatient lot and apparently their new arrival was performing to type.

"Lu," she whispered into the half-dark. A tear leaked from one eye. She had always been a tearful woman, ever since she was a child. She would cry and Bella would throw a temper tantrum and Mummy threatened to knock their heads together. Narcissa was too afraid to cry properly, too distracted by the alien goings-on in her body, which she had thought she knew too well. "Lu," she hissed again, more insistently.

Then the pain came properly, and she realised what she had been feeling was a poor shadow of what childbirth could be. Bright pain, lightning pain, that started in her belly and shot up her spine. Everything was cramping, contracting, and for a moment she forgot how to breath. Only a moment. Then she sucked in a breath and howled.

*

Lucius staggered from the bed and rushed naked down the hall. He tried to remember the instructions he had been given between gritted teeth. The foremost was to fetch Snape. There was no time for hurt pride that the first thing his wife wanted on the impending birth of his child was another man at her side. Some instinct, stronger than possessive jealousy, told him it was right. Snape would know what to do. Snape wouldn't feel this horrific mounting sense of panic.

He rapped sharply on the library door before pushing it open. The man must be a light sleeper. He was already half upright, wand in hand, eyes sharp and alert. A curse curdled on his lips when he saw Lucius illuminated by wand light.

"Is that a night gown?" he asked incredulous, as Snape stood and revealed himself to be in an ankle-length cotton garment. He couldn't be sure in the low light, but he suspected it was in the same state of use and repair as the old underpants that had been blessedly banished.

"I don't think you're in any state to comment." Snape smirked as dark eyes swept over Lucius's naked body. It was, actually, the first time had seen him naked, had seen any part of him bared apart from his cock. The sight, apparently, was pleasing.

Lucius shook his head and threw some clothes in Snape's direction. "Get dressed. Narcissa's having the baby."

He saw all thoughts of lust and sex vanish, as though by magic, from Snape's face. He dragged on trousers and pulled the nightshirt over his head briskly, his manner changing from house guest to professional. "Have you contacted St Mungo's? Are the contractions regular?"

Was this the way Snape looked when he was brewing? There was something sexy about the focus and intensity -- or would be, were the situation not so frought. "Are the what ... what?" Fucking hell, why hadn't he paid more attention to this nonsense?

"Never mind. Have you flooed St Mungo's?" Lucius shook his head mutely as Snape strode towards him, buttoning his shirt haphazardly as he moved. "Go and do that. Give them your precise address. They should have had the bedroom hooked to their network at her six month check, they'll be able to floo a midwitch straight in." Snape looked at him for a moment, bemusement and frustration warring on his face as Lucius stood stock still in front of him. "Now, Lucius."

For possibly the first time in his life, Lucius obeyed a command from an inferior.

The receptionist at St Mungo's Maternity Ward was irritatingly calm. She assured him that a midwitch would floo to the house within twenty minutes. She also asked if Narcissa's contractions were regular, and Lucius said yes in the hopes it would speed the whole process up. "That's good. It looks like you'll be a father before the end of the day, Mr Malfoy."

Before the end of the day? But that was hours away, and Narcissa needed assistance now.

He snarled and pulled his head from the flames, standing and rushing back to Narcissa's bedroom. A robe was unceremoniously handed to him the moment he enterred. "Let's not give the midwitch a heart attack," Snape said smoothly. The arse even had the audacity to smirk.

Narcissa was standing now, holding on to one of the posts of their bed and rocking from side to side. She, too, had been dressed in a robe, but it hung from her shoulders unfastened. "Should she be doing that?" he asked, remembering how heavily she fell when she fainted.

"Gravity will help move things along quickly and the movement should ease some of the pain. Lucky for you, I've been travelling prepared for the last month." Snape pulled a small pouch from his trouser pocket. When he reached inside, the neck of the pouch cam up to his elbow, and he seemed to be having some difficulty feeling through the innumerable contents within. His transfigurations must have improved -- or else he was spending money on fancy carrying devices instead of decent sleepwear. He extracted several potions, setting them on the bedside table.

Snape rested a hand on Narcissa's shoulder. She seemed almost to be in a trance, eyes closed, breathing slow and steady to the rhythm of her rocking. "May I?" he heard Snape murmur, his hand sliding to her lower back. Narcissa nodded and Snape quickly swept the robe aside, pouring one of the unguents into his palm and smoothly rubbing it into her back. He caught Lucius's eye. "Analgesic. Completely safe for the baby, but it should ease some of Narcissa's discomfort." He turned his attention back to the patient. "That's it, slow breaths. Start panting when the contraction starts."

"How do you know all this?" Lucius asked after a few moments of stunned silence.

Snape looked at him incredulously. "Seventh year potions requires a focus on anatomy. The Ministry pays for midwitch training and..." A long, pained moan from Narcissa cut him off, but Snape didn't need to finish. He had been homeless without an income. If the Ministry would pay to put him into a trade, of course Snape would study towards the only career which would use his talents. "Breathe," he was saying, in the rich velvet voice that had begged him only hours before, "Just breathe."

As the pain receded Snape looked up at Lucius again. "Would you like to help?" he said, his tone not as sarcastic or acerbic as it might have been in the circumstances. Lucius was, after all, standing with his mouth open while Snape supported Narcissa and helped ease her pain.

Before he could make a reply, flames ignited in the grate and a rotund little witch stepped out, brushing soot from her crisp white uniform. "Malfoy residence?" she asked primly, smiling despite the fact Narcissa had gone into another contraction. "Are you Daddy?" she asked Snape.

He scowled at her in response and Lucius stepped forward. "I'm Lucius Malfoy, this is my wife Narcissa."

"And you are?" she asked Snape pointedly.

"Doing your job for you," he growled in response. "Her contractions are ten minutes apart and have been for over half an hour, they're starting to increase. I've applied a mild analgesic to her back and encouraged her to move but they're getting stronger. I haven't examined internally but I suspect things are moving quickly for a primip."

The little witch's eyes widened. "Well then. Right. Let's get her on the bed and I'll have a look."

"Please use the blue potion on your hands," Snape said, guiding Narcissa back towards the bed.

"Pardon me?"

"The blue potion, antiseptic, we don't want an infection now, do we?"

"I have my own-" she began to say, before Snape cut across.

"I would hope so, but please use mine. I know who supplies St Mungo's and their potioneers cut corners."

The little midwitch stuttered looking outraged. "Just do it," Lucius snarled, suddenly grateful rather than flustered at Snape's apparent birth expertise.

There were many things new parents demanded in the course of her job, and generally she was inclined to give the benefit of the doubt. But questioning the way she did her job was a step too far. "I don't know who you think you are, Sir," she squeaked.

"I am Severus Snape. I study under Esser at the Munich Institute. I would gladly provide you with references if it weren't for the fact that I'm apparently delivering a baby today. Now use the potion, or I'll examine her myself."

To her credit, the midwitch managed to keep an air of stiff dignity as she unstoppered the bottle and sniffed the contents suspiciously. She scowled at Snape and apparently deemed the substance to be serviceable, sloshing a quantity onto her hands and rubbing it in.

At this small victory, Snape moved back to stand beside Lucius. The two women talked -- the midwitch calm and smiling, Narcissa brief and snappish. Snape turned his back tactfully and, as Narcissa spread her legs and the midwitch moved in between them, he did the same.

"How did you do that?" Lucius hissed under his breath.

"Do what?" Snape asked looking vaguely amused.

"Have everything ready. She's not due."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Ignorant prick. Narcissa and Bellatrix were both premature, as was Sirius Black, as was Regulus. Sometimes the tendency runs in the family. I've been carrying those around for the last month."

"And you know this?"

"Because I ask questions. And because Narcissa asked me to help." He drew himself to his full height and, even in rolled up shirt sleeves and yesterday's rumpled trousers, Lucius had to admit he looked imposing. "She knew you'd be bloody useless." He twitched the knees of his trousers and sank down against the wall to sit on the floor. Lucius looked down his nose at the other man and conjured himself a chair. Smirking, Snape ran a hand through his hair. "Esser even got me a week on the maternity ward in Munich. Not easy when you can't speak Deutsche for Scheisse."

Lucius laughed, a single bark of relief as much as mirth. From behind the doors they heard Narcissa howl. Snape sighed and rose to his feet, turning back towards the door. "Once more to the breach," he muttered.

Lucius frowned, remembering 'breach' as having something to do with a birth complication. "What?" he asked, looking worried.

"Nothing," Snape said, pushing the door open. "You wouldn't understand."

What followed was excruciating: sweating and panting and screaming and body fluids that Lucius didn't like to think about. It was almost a relief when he came nearer to Narcissa to check on her and she screamed at him to get out. And it was interminable! Lucius was exhausted, Merlin only knew how she felt. He conjured his chair in the hallway outside the room again and sat as patiently as he could. It was much longer before Snape was also ejected from the bedroom.

"She'll be doing it on her own at this rate," he grumbled and, rather than seat himself, set to pacing. Wasn't that his job, Lucius thought. Weren't new fathers supposed to pace? Lucius had no desire to waste energy in such an activity. He crossed his legs and stared fixedly at the door. "She's in the last stage," Snape was saying. "It won't be much longer. But I'd like to be in there to give her a once over when it's born."

"He," Lucius corrected absently. "When he's born. And I'm sure the midwitch knows what she's doing."

Snape snorted in response and paced, muttering under his breath. Lucius caught the words, "worst unit in Europe" and "shoddy fucking workmanship", and decided he'd rather live in blissful ignorance.

When the room had grown a bit quiet, Snape put his head around the door. When he retracted it again he was grinning -- and it occured to Lucius he'd never seen Snape grin before. It suited him. He looked quite wolfish. "After you, Daddy," he said, the grin reducing down to a smirk.

As Lucius opened the door wider and enterred, there was a brief flash as the midwitch severed the birth cord with her wand. It was a sight Lucius could have lived without seeing, and he was almost sure Snape had sent him in first on purpose. But then his gaze followed the snaking cord upwards to a pink bundle of wriggling flesh sprawled against Narcissa's chest. She was flushed, ash blonde hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks, her thighs still spread and smeared with blood. But she was smiling, and that was all that Lucius really  
noticed. At least, she looked happy to see him, and this was something he would be good at.

He lowered himself onto the bed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling both his wife and baby close. He kissed her damp forehead and didn't care. She was the most beautiful woman in the world and always would be. Narcissa leaned in to him, only pulling away when Snape fussed at the other wise of the bed, feeling her forehead and taking her pulse. At his reappearance, the midwitch scarpered as quickly as possible, leaving them alone to enjoy the late morning sunlight that streamed through the window.

"We're calling him Draco," she said, in a voice that would not brook argument. "Dragons only have one young, and you certainly won't catch me doing this again!"

Lucius grinned like a fool.

"She didn't leave you a fucking blanket or anything. Wrap him up and rub him, keep him warm." Narcissa laughed and did as she was told as Snape fussed around the bedroom. The baby didn't cry. He gurgled softly, peering from between the folds of Narcissa's robe with slitted blue eyes. Lucius offered his finger to one of the tiny hands and marvelled at the grip from such small fingers.

"I should floo Esser, he'll wonder where I am. Do you want me to stay or fuck off?"

Narcissa frowned at him. "Language, Severus." She smiled her old smile as she cupped a hand over the baby's crown, protecting his fragile ears. "'Fuck off' is a bit strong, but I'm tired."

"Then I'll go," he said, smiling stiffly. He started packing his potions away again, leaving a few of the analgesics and healing potions for use as Narcissa recovered. "Don't be an idiot," Snape said gruffly as Lucius moved to extricate himself and see the other man out. "I can make it to the fireplace on my own."

Lucius nodded, unsure now how to speak to Snape, or how even to think of him. His friend? His lover? The man who delivered his child? Snape gave him a funny look, and Lucius remembered the talk about Legilimency. With any luck he'd put it down to the situation.

"Give it a week," Snape murmured, low enough that Narcissa shouldn't hear, "We'll be back to normal."

"Visit soon," Narcissa said. "We're not chucking you out so don't go sulking."

His smile for her, at least, was genuine. He bent to kiss her hair and left without a backward glance at Lucius.

It was not a moment for angst or agonising. Everything else would mend itself, order would be reasserted and all would be well. For this day, Lucius wanted nothing more than to lie in bed with his wife and his son, and marvel at how kind life could be.

*

Fatherhood suited him, Lucius decided. Of course, Lucius's experience of fatherhood might not be quite the same as yours or mine. An experienced and highly recommended wet elf was procured. The Malfoys were blissfully unaware of midnight feedings and colic and nappy rash. These things were handled for them and, when their beautiful blonde boy was brought to them each morning, he was perfect in every way. They enjoyed only the desirable parts of parenting. They bathed him, fed him during the day, burped him, vanished his vomit and handed him back to Shably when he started crying. And who could blame them?

After a tactful period of two weeks had passed, the Dark Lord visited the new family and gave the child his blessing, if that was the right word. He expressed his interest in becoming the boy's godfather. They had been intending to ask Snape, after his instrumental turn in bringing the boy into the world, but an expression of interest was as good as a direct command: not something to be ignored. 

Snape was in a surprisingly good mood in the months immediately following Draco's birth. Lucius suspected something was going on with the Mudblood but wasn't going to ask. There was nothing like getting laid to put a spring in a man's step. The intimacy of situation had brought all three of them to a new sense of easiness. Lucius still made Snape strip and kneel for him, but first they would enjoy a drink. Narcissa would flirt, Snape would smirk and pretend not to notice, and Lucius would quietly charm the pair of them. 

"My birthday is coming," Narcissa informed him one evening as Lucius suggested she might like to go to bed -- Snape was looking surprisingly penitent and clearly needed some special attention. Lucius rested his hand at the small of her back and hummed in acknowledgement. "I think I know what I'd like for my gift." Her eyes were shining with mischief as she glanced over at Snape.

Lucius smirked. He might have guessed, really. "Oh, yes. And what did you have in mind?"

"I know how much fun you have with him," she breathed against his lips as she turned to kiss him good night, pressing her body against his. "I just want to be allowed to play with the boys. Just for one night. And then you can keep him all to yourself again."

He looked over his should at the gangly youth, downing the last of his wine and loosening his shirt cuffs. "Hardly a gift, is he?"

Her eyes were shining again. "Not as pretty as you, maybe," she murmured, "But there's something ... unattainable about him that I like. And you have to admit, it would be fun."

Lucius lifted a shoulder in a shrug, pretending not to be excited or jealous or turned on at the possibilities.

They kissed good night and Lucius closed the door behind her. On cue, Snape stood and shucked his trousers and shirt. He wore no underwear beneath. Only the silver cock ring. He knelt on the hearth, the fire at his back, and lowered his eyes.

"Narcissa wants you as a birthday present," Lucius announced, amused at the way Snape's head shot up.

"Oh," was the man's diplomatic answer.

"I have a few ideas. Don't get ideas, I'm not going to let you fuck my wife. I probably won't even let you touch her." Lucius smirked as Snape's cock bounced. He walked behind Snape and leaned down to whisper in his ear, "I might let you watch though. Or let her watch. What do you think?" When he circled back in front of Snape, the other man's eyes were closed, his lips parted. Lucius took advantage of the opportunity to flick his wand at Snape, a whipcrack sounding as a lesion appeared on the inside of his right thigh. He jumped and moaned, hips rocking into the air. "One week until her birthday," Lucius mused aloud. "I think we should make sure she gets a proper gift. Worthless little slut that you are, you do have some merits."

Thin lips twisted sardonically, "Thank you."

Another whip crack sounded and Snape flinched as a welt opened across his ribcage. "Let's spell the serpent to hold you until Narcissa's birthday. That should make the celebration suitably ... explosive."

Snape's eyes widened. He looked about to protest, but Lucius sent another whiplash his way, scoring a hit across his nipple. The young man whimpered, his cock straining as though it were a sentient being, knowing it was to be bound for a week. "What about-" he began, but Lucius was quick to interrupt.

"If you use the concentration needed for brewing potions as an excuse, Snape, it will be a month. And do you know why?"

He swallowed, his voice a hoarse, needy whisper, "Because I need to learn to focus under duress. And because my body needs to learn restraint." He just breathed for a few moments while Lucius watched him -- the way his rib cage rose and fell, the lost and lust filled look in his eyes. "But that's not what I was going to ask."

Lucius waved a hand, granting him permission to speak.

The words did not come immediately. At last Snape looked up at him nervously and wet his lips. "What about ... you're not the only person I fuck."

Another whip mark, so close to Snape's groin that even Lucius winced. "You don't fuck me at all, and don't presume to even think so." Lucius silently Summoned Snape. The other wizard's wand was within his reach, but he didn't move for it, didn't resist at all. His bare knees rasped against the marble as he slid inexorably closer to Lucius, until the older man stopped him with a bare foot against the centre of his chest. "Do you think I care who else you fuck?"

Snape swallowed. "No."

"Does she need you to be able to come in order to fuck you?"

"She might ask questions."

"Embarrassed to admit that you spend so much time on your knees, begging me to come when you know you like it more when I tell you 'no'?"

That hate and lust spark of fire in Snape's eyes would never stop being sexy. "Obviously," he sneered.

"Good," Lucius whispered, gripping Snape's hair and dragging him forwards until his over-large nose was within an inch of Lucius's covered erection. "Then I know how much it will make you throb when you admit it to her."

Lucius released him and sat back, waiting for Snape to return upright before asking, "Now. Tell me how you fucked up."

He whipped him a little more, slapped his cock and stroked it until it leaked. He bit the young man until Snape was growling and thrashing. Then he sent him back to Germany with a smirked request that Snape write and tell him how the Mudblood enjoyed his cock when it had no purpose but to give her pleasure.

*

Lucius,

A letter, as requested, regarding L. She had not seen the like of your serpent before and when I explained its purpose she said she thought you were very cruel. She didn't understand. I told her it was to do with an initiation right, like fagging. Telling her the truth was too difficult. Please punish me for that when we are alone -- I would rather not in front of Narcissa. I have no right to ask that and you will be tempted to do this in front of her just to spite me, but I'm very serious. I will more than make amends.

My sorry state was not enough for her to forego our planned activities. She offered to wait but I confess it was an intense experience. I usually find her absorbing, but my mind couldn't help straying to my bound cock as I fucked her, knowing that it was for you, and for Narcissa, and how when I am finally able to come it will be for all three of you. The thought makes it feel so good it's painful.

L might think you are very cruel, but she came harder than I have ever made her come before. It is humiliating -- deliciously so -- to think that is because of you and not me. To wonder if she wants to treat me this way, if she likes the idea, if there is something dark and dirty latent in her the way it was with me. I don't think she would know how to tell me to strip and kneel with the kind of force that makes me do it before I even know I'm obeying. But the thought, the possibility, is electrifying. 

I wish I could tell you more about her, but I know you don't want to know. I look forward to Friday.

I am,  
Your servant,

Severus Snape

*

Friday night came, and with it a glittering party. The manor was full with the great and good, the oldest families in wizarding Britain and a few from the continent. The Malfoi cousins were present, and the Minister for Magic; the Dark Lord and all of the highest ranking Death Eaters. Somewhere amongst the throng was Ludwig Esser, the Potions genius from Munich, and Karkaroff who had just been made Headmaster at Durmstrang. Standing with these illustrious fellows was a man of no consequence, no breeding; a young man who was quite good at Potions and had a talent for duelling; fresh from Hogwarts with no fixed abode and barely a penny to his name that was not generously handed to him by his employer or sponsor. He had no dress robes, so wore the suit he normally wore to conferences. His hair was greasy and lank, as it always was. No special effort had been made. Were anyone to pause long enough to notice him, they might have thought him oddly out of place. Perhaps a poor relation or part of the help. Perhaps a gate crasher yet to be noticed by the protective wards. Yet the Dark Lord, when passing, nodded to him once, and they shared a private smile that suggested a common understanding. And the host of the party himself, at one point, topped up the young man's glass and shared a joke with him as he did so.

Most noticeably of all, as the glitterati disapparated and the Malfoys were left alone, this sole poor excuse for a guest remained.

"That was a wonderful night, my love," Narcissa breathed as she passed baby Draco back to Shably the wet elf to be carried, already snoring, to his crib. 

Lucius ran his hands down the luscious silk satin that encased her body. All in gold and shining bright as a diamond, and all for him. Well, almost all. "The night isn't over yet," he reminded her, teeth grazing her neck and making her squeak in delight.

Snape leaned against the fireplace and drained his wine glass -- his fourth that night. His cheeks were pink and his head was fuzzy, but that served to dampen his excitement from fever pitch down to a pleasant and ever-present high note. It sang through his body, had done for the past week, like a soprano's high note, throbbing with every shift of his hard cock against his clothing. He had become a dab hand at masking charms and glamours out of necessity. From beneath hooded eyes he watched the couple who had been beautiful and charming all night long, almost unable to keep their hands off each other.

He pushed off from the wall, depositting his glass on the fire place, and stalked towards the laughing couple. Lucius caught his eye over Narcissa's shoulder, and the happy grin on his face turned evil. "Well then, Snape. Let's show Narcissa what you've learned."

 

Lucius disentangled himself from his wife. The furniture in the room had been duplicated, several times over, to allow for the addition of party guests. But Lucius knew which was the correct chair, which was the real one, and dragged it to the customary position before the fireplace. He sat in the large leather wingback, sprawling inj a languid way, and held his hand out to Narcissa. When she moved within his reach, he pulled her down onto his lap to enjoy the show.

Snape's face was carefully schooled. His eyes showed no sign of hate or lust, he did not flush with humiliation. To all appearances he was a perfect specimen of indifference. Lucius knew differently. The young man tugged at his tie, drawing it with quick jerks from his neck, then let it drop to the floor. He took out his wand and Lucius stopped him just in time.

"I think we'd like a show, actually, Snape. Why not leave your wand to one side for a bit?"

The slightest tightening to his jaw was all the irritation he showed. Was this new restraint for Narcissa's benefit, he wondered, or part of his ongoing Legilimency campaign? It would certainly be useful if he didn't betray every thought and feeling to the Dark Lord. Lucius was loyal, all the Death Eaters were, but privacy was a privilege which he had come to miss where his Lord was concerned. Nimble fingers worked quickly and efficiently at the buttons on coat and shirt, then at each cuff. He slid the two garments from his shoulders as one, and folded them haphazardly before laying them over the back of a chair.

"He's very thin," Narcissa whispered to Lucius, grinning and blushing like a naughty schoolgirl. 

"Don't be shy, Narcissa," Lucius growled against her neck, loud enough for Snape to hear. "I'm sure Severus would enjoy a running commentary."

A glance up, but that was all. Snape was going to make him work for a reaction. Well, that shouldn't be a problem. He stood upright and spread his arms slightly, as though offering Narcissa a better view. Pale skin and soft, stretched over jutting bones and dusted with coarse black hair. Lucius knew those planes well, had marked them over the past year, again and again. Snape's trousers hung very low on his hips and were tight enough to show his arousal -- an expression of interest Snape simply couldn't hide. 

"Off," Lucius said, his own hands tightening around Narcissa's waist, pulling her flush against his body so she could feel his answering hardness. Snape unbuttoned his fly and skimmed the trousers down his slender thighs. "I believe you're fmailiar with this part of his anatomy?"

Narcissa swatted at him playfully, giggling. She hadn't noticed the serpent, not yet.

"Come here, Severus. Show Narcissa how we keep you from over-indulging."

He took a few steps closer, stopping within arm's reach of the couple. Narcissa held out her hand, then paused. "Can I?" she asked.

"He's your present, my love," Lucius said, his body reacting with surprising positivity to the sight of his wife about to fondle another man. "Do what you want with him. Within reason."

Her fingers closed the gap, brushing over the serpent. It writhed and constricted at her touch, and Snape hissed in combined pain and appreciation. He watched her carefully, but Narcissa didn't seem to notice. Her hand closed around him, pale against the dark flush of his skin. She stroked him, Snape's foreskin gliding smoothly up and down the steel of his shaft. "He's so hard," she sighed. Snape groaned in non-verbal agreement.

"I thought it would be nice for Severus to attend your birthday celebration with a vested interest in pleasing you. He's been wearing his serpent for ... seven or eight days, Severus?"

"Eight," he answered tersely.

Narcissa gave his cock a little slap, giggling when it bounced. "Be polite, Severus. Doesn't Lucius expect an honorific?"

The two men's eyes met over the top of Narcissa's head. They had never agreed an honorific, because none were particularly suitable. There was always the risk that their night time activities accidentally spill over to public occasions. Snape calling Lucius 'Master' in front of the Dark Lord may prove interesting to explain.

"We don't usually talk much," Lucius lied, enjoying Narcissa's smirk. "Show Narcissa how you usually come to me," he said quickly, hoping she would be easily distracted.

Snape dropped to his knees, eyes lowered to the floor. He spread his legs, displaying his cock and balls to their view, hands behind his back. Lucius took the opportunity of Snape's averted gaze to run his hands over Narcissa's body. He cupped one breast, the other hand lifting the satin of her dress robes. Narcissa grinned, spreading her legs eagerly, and twisting to kiss him as his hand slid up her thigh. 

"Remember when you tried to cop a feel, Snape?" she asked. His black eyes lifted, drinking in the sight of creamy pale thighs spread wide, meeting in a nest of dewy golden curls. Lucius ran his fingers through their luxuriant softness, spreading her cunt lips to the other man's hungry gaze. Narcissa hummed and settled on his lap, her head lolling back against his shoulder. "Was this what you wanted to get your grubby paws on?"

He didn't answer, but Lucius's fingers were wet and slick, running up and over and around her clit, so Narcissa was in no state to correct him. She was so wet already, so ripe for the picking, and Snape's cock bounced and twitched with every breath moan that escaped her lips. He pulled down her robes, exposing her full breasts, and plucked at one nipple as his fingers flicked her clit. "Show Snape how beautiful you are when you come for your husband," he said.

She was close, so close, and were they in bed alone she would have come. But she wriggled and closed her eyes. "If he ... touches. Will he come?"

Lucius grinned against her neck. "He won't come until we say he can."

"Stroke your cock, Snape," she said, need making her voice raw.

He quickly wrapped one hand around his cock, pumping as he watched Narcissa writhe in pleasure. She bit down on her lip, watching him through half-lidded eyes. As the other man's mask of disinterest melted quickly into lust, need, desperation, he felt Narcissa relax. She keened soft, breathy moans, rising in pitch as her cunt tightened. Snape watched her intently, mouth hanging open, as she fell apart in Lucius's arms.

"Stop stroking," Lucius murmured, watching Snape as Narcissa breathed through her afterglow. "Come here and clean my fingers."

Snape crawled forwards eagerly. His dark eyes raked over Narcissa's dishevelled body as he moved, then back to Lucius and his outstretched hand, glistening with Narcissa's cunt juice. He opened his mouth, leaning forwards to take each digit into his mouth. He sucked diligently, as Lucius had known he would, tongue swirling over the pad of each finger, down to the knuckle, around the nail, eager to taste every morsel. Narcissa smiled, watching the two men. "Do you ever kiss?" she asked softly.

He felt Snape pause in his ministrations, just for a moment, before suckling on the next finger. Once, he thought. Or maybe twice. There had been incidents where the instigator apologised afterwards and it was never mentioned again. "It's not that kind of thing," he said. "Snape just likes to be told what a useless little fuck he is and messed around a bit."

"I'd like to see you kiss," she said. He glanced at her and she was watching them, smiling, her own hand straying between her legs.

Whatever the birthday girl wants, Lucius thought, though his stomach dropped at the idea. It would be like every other time. Afterwards, when Narcissa was gone or the next time they were alone, he would apologise. They would never talk about it again. He removed his fingers from Snape's mouth and tilted his chin. Without another thought or word, he leaned in and pressed his lips against that thin, cruel smirk. 

For a long moment neither of them moved, neither of them dared. Snape was the first to tilt his head and open his mouth, creating a sensual slide of skin against skin. Lucius hummed his approval and did the same, eyes fluttering closed. He felt Narcissa's hand insinuate itself between their bodies, squeezing him through his clothing. Despite himself, his hips bucked upwards in response. He opened his mouth, teeth closing over Snape's lower lip, tongue flashing out to tease the bruised skin. He felt rather than heard Snape whimper and open his mouth to whatever Lucius wanted. Uneven teeth that clashed with his, and bruising pressure and intensity.

When Lucius pulled back, Snape moved with him, almost over-balancing. His black eyes were hungry and, in his mind, he felt a word pressed into him: 'More'. Lucius shook his head slightly.

"I want to fuck," Narcissa said. She was smiling, brightly, wickedly. "Snape, do you think you could hold my weight?"

The sardonic look was back, his intense arousal temporarily forgotten. He was about to make a terse comment, Lucius could feel it, so he stepped in before it could happen. Always the peace maker. "That won't be a problem, love. What do you want?"

"Take that thing off him. Snape, stand up."

Snape complied without looking too mutinous, and Lucius touched the tip of his wand to the serpent, collecting it in his hand as it slid from Snape's cock. He stashed it safely in his pocket before unfastening his own trousers. In true tradition, he had no intention to undress in front of Snape. His clothing was a part of his armour, a part of his dominance. Even for Narcissa, he would not fuck naked in front of Snape.

The petite blonde insinuated herself between the two men. She had let the watery satin fall completely from her body, leaving her naked and perfect. Her arms came up around Snape's neck, and he bent slightly to accommodate her. She kissed him. There was none of the hunger and latent need that had fuelled the kiss Lucius had shared with Snape, but watching still made Lucius ache to be inside of his wife. She pressed herself flush against the other man, and he groaned as his cock finally felt heat and friction and pressure. Lucius knew he must be holding himself back from rutting against the woman like a teenager. "Lift me," she whispered against his lips, reaching behind her for Lucius to pull him close against her back. "Pick me up so Lu can fuck me ... and wish that it was you."

With little effort, Snape hooked his forearms behind Narcissa's knees and lifted her. Her arms tightened around his neck, and Lucius stepped close behind, quickly running the head of his cock along her slick entrance and sliding inside. Tight and hot and wet, she rippled around him as her body adjusted to his girth. Lucius gripped her hips, and felt the chorded muscle in Snape's arms. As he pulled out and thrusted sharply back inside, he heard matching masculine and feminine groans of pleasure. Looking up, he came face to face with Snape. Those black eyes were watching him intently. Lucius could feel when Snape rolled his hips, rubbing his own cock against Narcissa's soft belly.

Lucius fucked his wife, setting up a steady rhythm of sharp thrusts. With each jerk of his hips, Narcissa's body pressed against Snape. The three of them moved in sinnuous tandem, somehow staying upright, somehow each gaining pleasure from the other two. Narcissa tilted her head and sank her teeth into Snape's neck. Lucius wanted to kiss him again. It was an unbidden and unwelcome desire, one that he resisted, instead pumping harder to bring them all that bit closer to orgasm. The sooner this was over, the soon the strangeness would end and normality would return. This had been a terrible idea. He should never have agreed to it. But as he fucked his wife and watched the answering expressions of need pass across Snape's face, he knew he would be howling by the time he came.

Snape came first, predictably. It had been over a week and he had suffered terrible, wonderful over stimulation. His hands, which had supported the small of Narcissa's back, spasmed. Blunt nails clawed at Lucius's stomach. He rolled his hips in response, purposely grinding Narcissa against the other man. Snape seemed dazed and unsteady for a moment, his eyes falling closed. Then a moment later they were open, and looking hungrily down at the woman before him. Lucius felt a twinge of something -- not jealousy, surely -- that he was no longer the centre of the other man's focus. But before he could examine the fleeting emotion or let it distract him, Snape disappeared from view. He somehow lowered himself. shift Narcissa's thighs smoothly to his shoulders to bury his face in her tick wet curls.

The woman bucked and mewled in his arms. Ljucius grinned and fucked her harder, fucked her just the way she liked. He felt Snape's tongue against his cock as he lapped at Narcissa's cunt. They cries seemed to rise in tandem, each crying out in unison as they came together. 

Narcissa's legs were limply lowered back to solid ground. She was sticky and dirty and beautiful. Lucius kissed her thoroughly, his cock staying at half mast as she turned and pressed her soft breasts against him. For a few moments they forgot about Snape, each lost in the other in a way that Lucius was surprised and grateful still happened with frequency. She squeaked into his mouth. Lucius broke the kiss and looked over her shoulder as she moaned, long and loud. Severus had his hand between her legs, long calloused fingers manipulating her folds. He grinned, looking up at the couple from his place still knelt on the floor. "One for luck," he said in a hoarse, tired voice.

"I don't know if I can come again," she whimpered, as Lucius lowered his head to her nipples, sucking and biting and teasing them to peaks. But before long she was keening again, hips bucking up against Snape's fingers. He touched her with long languid movements, stroking and exploring where Lucius would flick and tap and tease. The change drew her inexorably onwards and she fell limp against Lucius as she came again, clinging to him to remain upright on shaking legs.

It seemed a shame to split the group, for Narcissa and Lucius to go to bed and Snape to go to his library. The two men eyed one another awkwardly, neither sure how to proceed. It was Narcissa that located her wand and cast a cushioning charm on the floor, transfigured her dress robes into a soft, luxuriant blanket. "No complaining, I'm too tired," she said with a fond smile as she pulled Lucius down beside her. She curled against his chest, as she always did, and tugged Snape's hand until he fell in close beind her. 

"Nox," someone said, and the lights went out. 

In the dark, Lucius could still see Snape. His black eyes were open, were looking at Lucius. Was he reading minds again, Lucius wondered. Not that there would be much to read. He was exhausted, blank, empty. Calloused cold fingers trailed up his arm. Lucius was on the brink of sleep, too far gone to argue when another very masculine hand closed around his and held him as he fell asleep.


	4. Playing Both Sides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a little shorter than my usual updates, but it's a necessary evil. Back to normal from here on!

"Be alone at eleven -- SS."

That was all the note said. Four words and a set of initials, but Lucius read and re-read them. He made excuses to Narcissa, his need to work into the night, an important political coup to be staged by the Dark Lord. The knowing glint in her eye told him she was not convinced. Though it was all true. Something was brewing with their Lord, something dark and heavy and important. He was growing frenzied, moreso than normal. There were whispers about a prophecy, some Divinations hack that Dumbledore had hurried up to Hogwarts with suspicious enthusiasm. The old man wasn't the type to bluff. He only protected the ones he had to protect, and everything else was fair game.

The ranks of the Death Eaters were taut, their tension a symptom of the Dark Lord's uncertainty. They were so close now to out and out power. They had the Ministry, they had the Minister, and everything was in place. It would be weeks before the Statute of Secrecy was over-turned, and then the Muggles could finally be put in their place. Muggleborn tagging was the next step, and then exploration of the source of Muggleborn magic would follow closely behind -- covertly at first, until they had concrete findings. From there, the world was their metaphorical oyster. But these were the goals they had been working towards for the past year. And Merlin, had it only been a year? Longer for Lucius, a lot longer for some of the others, but a year since a party was formed and ideas were put into words. A year since the Death Eaters made their opinions known and started to take over.

All of that hard work threatened by one highly questionable avenue of shady magic. 

When the carriage clock on the mantle timed eleven, Lucius was ready in the wing backed chair. He had not poured himself a glass of wine, did not lounge in his seat. He half expected the Dark Lord himself to appear with Snape, though he couldn't tell why his apprehension was so high. Tense times and fraying tempers were getting to him. 

The flames turned emerald green and Snape stepped smoothly from the fireplace. He looked up to see Lucius in his customary position and nodded once. With a flick of his wand he was undressed. The serpent was in place, as Lucius had mandated it must be on every meeting of this kind, but for the first time Snape's cock was flaccid in its silver confines. He walked to Lucius and knelt directly before him, eyes lowered as was normal.

Before Lucius could begin their routine he said, "Please. I need your help."

Lucius frowned. This wasn't the way they did things. This wasn't the way their relationship worked. When he said nothing, Snape risked a glance up. He seemed to have aged somehow. Fear and worry and sadness ate into his face, creating lines and shadows where none had been before. "Please," he said again.

"I heard you the first time," Lucius drawled. He was regretting his decision not to pour a drink. "You've never asked me for help before. Not directly, anyway."

He watched Snape's chest rise and fall three times before he answered, "I trust you."

Lucius flinched as though he had been slapped. Trust was not a concept in which Lucius believed. There was no such thing. People, no matter who they were, would always let one another down. It was one of life's great truths. "You're a fool," he sneered.

Snape's lips twitched. "I don't deny it. May I explain?" 

"Would you like to get dressed?" Lucius asked, grey eyes flicking down to Snape's soft cock.

"I..." he breathed again. Choosing his words seemed to be more difficult than normal. "I would prefer not."

Lucius shrugged. "Then carry on."

"You know about Lily," Snape said, a statement not a question. "You knwo that we ... that she's important to me."

"I know you fuck her behind her husband's back," he said smoothly.

Those black eyes were filled with nothing but rage and Lucius felt the hair on his arms stand on edge. He had never considered it before, never had cause to as he was always shoulder to shoulder with this man, but it struck him suddenly that in his way, Severus Snape would be a formidable enemy. "The husband in question isn't as understanding as Narcissa."

For the first time since their first time, Lucius found himself leant forward in his chair, the back of his hand stinging from impact with the other man's stubbled cheek. He had performed the action before he had gained any real awareness that he intended to do it. "Don't try and compare me to-"

"Yes, yes," Snape drawled, too angry to moderate his tone or the words that came, "You're so very different. We don't fuck. You don't care. It's all very flexible and bohemian and sordid. Whatever you tell yourself, Lucius, as far as I'm concerned we fuck and I care."

It was tempting to leave the room. How could he? How could Snape get things so monumentally wrong, make them so complicated? This was just another level of their hierarchy, a means for Lucius to express his position over Snape. It wasn't sex, not really. And if it was, then it was just sex. There was absolutely no need to bring feelings into the equation.

"It doesn't matter what you say or what you think. My thoughts are my own. Much as it might pain you that there's part of me you can't control. Don't fucking punish me because I'm less confused about the situation than you."

He sat back fuming but determined not to leave, not to give Snape the satisfaction of suspecting he might be right. "Did you have a point?"

"He's putting her under protective spells."

Lucius paused, trying to remember what they had been discussing before things all got a bit personal. "Who?" he asked eventually.

"Dumbledore. Lily. Her and her wank rag of a husband. And their baby."

He raised a perfect blonde eyebrow. "Their baby?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Yes, their baby. I'm not a complete fuckwit, I know better than to get someone else's wife pregnant."

Lucius began to wonder if Snape's interest in childbirth, his concern, his alarming levels of preparation had been entirely for Narcissa's benefit. How old was this child? Surely younger than Draco, for Snape had never mentioned a baby before. But then he had never mentioned a pregnancy; never mentioned anything, because Lucius made sure it would never come up.

"She writes to me," Snape was saying, while Lucius mused only half-listening. "Dumbledore thinks the Dark Lord intends to kill her child. Something about a prophecy."

That had Lucius's attention. "If the baby is the target," Lucius said quietly, "Then they're doomed. There's nothing I can do."

"Talk to him," Snape whispered. "Please. He listens to you."

He listens to no one, Lucius thought. It's what makes him the Dark Lord, while the rest were slaves to his command. Snape knew this as well as anyone, had been a part of their circle for long enough to know the way it worked. Wasn't that what Lucius had been beating into him since the very first day.

"What would you have me say?" He found himself asking.

"The prophecy is about a child, a boy. If he needs to die, let it be done. But Lily..."

Lucius sneered. "Save the mudblood slut for your personal entertainment? You're insane." He leaned forward and gripped Snape's hair, pulling him forwards and hissing the words into his face. "Do you honestly think she would welcome you with open legs, after you've sold her son to save her life? Even you must understand how deluded that is."

"Please," he whimpered, dangerously close to tears. "I can't lose her. Not again."

He shook his head, grip loosening. "Why does she mean so much to you?"

A long shaky breath rattled through Snape's open mouth before he sniffed, recovering himself, and raised his head to answer. "Because she gives a fuck. And did so when no one else did."

"It is not my custom," Lucius said smoothly, "to compliment you under any circumstances. That's not the way we work. But you know that you have friends now. Not just us, but others. Not everyone cares for you, maybe, but you're useful. And you're one of us." You're not alone, is what Lucius wanted to say, but that was verging on the conversation they had just successfully left behind, and he had no desire to reopen that jar of Bertie Botts.

"She's different," was all Snape would say. "She's like you."

Another drop of his stomach. Lucius was starting to feel quite nauseated. He forgot, sometimes, that Snape was so young. He shook his head and longed for bed. "If I talk to him, will you drop the subject?"

Snape smirked and Lucius felt an answering warmth; a reassurance that things were going back to normal. Snape would be dry and sardonic, and there would be no more talk of bonds or affection. "Which one?"

"Any of them. Anything you've brought up tonight."

Another long breath, a sigh. "Talk to him and I'll do whatever you want."

Lucius smirked and tipped Snape's head up. "You do whatever I want anyway."

They might have played then, but neither of them were in the mood. Snape was too shaken by the possible loss of his slut, and Lucius too shaken by the knowledge that Snape thought of their sessions as the basis of some sort of relationship. The serpent slipped meekly from Snape's cock, seeming to know that its services were not required this evening. "Get dressed," Lucius said, scrubbing one hand over his eyes. "I'll see that Stubby prepares the library for you."

*

Lucius did try. Despite his better judgement he did try, and was grateful that he had agreed to broach the subject with the Dark Lord rather than leaving Snape to do it. He was getting smoother, getting to a point where he could navigate these things, but not quite there yet. And it was a dangerous line to be walking.

"He's young," Lucius smirked, swirling the wine in his glass, "He's still thinking with his cock."

"If that's the issue I'm sure another avenue could be found for his interest. There are plenty of bright, right-minded students at the Institute." That charming face was set, eyes glittering. It was amusing, he had admitted that mjuch, the idea of a boy as fervent as Snape actually caring about a Mudblood. Amusing, but also disturbing.

"He's intense. And loyal. You yourself have noted this about him. It's one of his better qualities. Unfortunately, it's backfired." Dark eyes were displeased, Lucius could tell. "Consider the implications, my Lord. If she'd wanted him, there wouldn't be all this fuss. Kill the child, that needs to be done. And kill the father, he's a blood traitor and a nuissance. Save the mother for Snape. A reward for his hard work. It's not like it will be any treat for her."

The Dark Lord smirked, sipping his own wine. "Severus is rewarded amply. He wants for nothing."

"I hate to contradict, my Lord, but he wants a woman to bend over and fuck."

There was a dangerously long pause.

Then ther Dark Lord threw his head back and laughed. "Do you suppose it would wipe the scowl from his face?"

Lucius grinned. "I think it would take more than a Mudblood cunt to achieve that, my Lord."

*

The next time Lucius saw Snape was a week later. He came for dinner, looking tired and unshaven. Narcissa commented, knowing no better, and Snape raised a smile just for her. "I'm brewing Wolfsbane stock. Lots of moonlit stirring."

That might be true, but Lucius knew Snape had insomnia. By the looks of him he had gone from sleeping a few hours a night to not sleeping at all. It was a tense time for them all, with the Dark Lord constantly on edge until the whole prophecy thing was resolved and only a few weeks before they demanded a referendum on the Statute of Secrecy. Lucius hadn't been sleeping well either -- had been spending more time with his head in the fireplace than in his own house. His knees were raw, and for no pleasant reason. Still, Lucius suspected there were other reasons for his state of appearance.

"I have some news," he said, his voice tight. "And you're the first to know. Almost the first to know. I'll be leaving the Munich Institute in September and taking up a place at Hogwarts. I'm going to teach."

"Oh," Narcissa said after a pregnant pause. "Severus, that's ... that's different."

"It's politic," he said, not bothering to hide the downturn to his mouth. "Hogwarts is the only establishment we've been unable to infiltrate. I don't expect Dumbledore to trust me particularly, he never liked me. But I can report on what's happening in the castle."

Narcissa smiled sweetly, her society smile that covered a multitude of sins. "I'm sure you'll be marvellous. You always kept me in line."

"Spying, Snape? Do you really think that's wise?" Lucius scented alterior motives. "Short temper, poor social skills."

"My temper is better. You'll note I haven't drawn my wand at you for being an arse." Lucius smirked down at his food. "As for social skills, I don't think anyone ever expects them to improve. My father never mellowed with age, and he taught up to the day he died."

Narcissa shot Lucius a warning look before he could make any further comment. She was still tip toeing around Snape senior's death when Lucius knew Snape didn't actually care. 

"What games are you playing?" Lucius asked when they were left alone. Snape wasn't naked, they had foregone that ritual for a few weeks. Tensions were too high and time was too short to do things properly. Instead they sat apart and drank firewhiskey, replacing sex with harder liquor. 

"What makes you think I'm playing games?" Snape countered. 

Lucius noted he didn't answer the question, was evading, was distracting. "Two weeks ago the foremost thought in your mind was to persuade the Dark Lord that you were valuable enough for him to put you through Mastery at the Institute. You seemed happy to stay in Germany for the duration and play with your potions. And now, you want to take a low paying job educating intellectual incompetants in potions you could brew in your sleep. No challenge, no glory."

"The challenge is staying under Dumbledore's radar. And the glory will be providing service to the Dark Lord."

The older man rolled his eyes and knocked back his whisky. "How he falls for that bollocks, I will never know. The Dark Lord is a clever man, much cleverer than you, but flattery will be his downfall." Lucius leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "He might not be on to you, but I am. I smell a Mudblood all over this."

Black eyes avoided his but Snape's countenance remained perfectly unruffled. "Lily is under protective wards, no one knows where she is. I haven't heard from her since. She's certainly not at Hogwarts, it's too bloody obvious. Your argument doesn't follow."

"Hmmm," Lucius grumbled. He was half tempted to accuse Snape of playing both sides, bargaining for her protection with Dumbledore as well as the Dark Lord. If it weren't for the fact he wouldn't have the balls. "I am calling bullshit. And one day, I shall be proved right."

A small smile curved his young friend's lips. "And on that day you shall collect your reward -- but not a moment sooner."


End file.
